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A  DAUGHTER  OF 
NAPOLEON 

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PRINCESS  de  CHIMAY 

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A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 


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PRINCESS  DE  CHIMAY,  DAUGHTER  OF  MADAME  DE  PELLAPRA 
By  Winterhalter 


A  DAUGHTER  OF 
NAPOLEON 

MEMOIRS  OF 

EMILIE  DE  PELLAPRA 

COMTESSE   DE  BRIGODE 

PRINCESS  DE  CHIMAY 
\\ 

WITH  AN    INTRODUCTION   BY 

PRINCESS  BIBESCO 

PREFACE  BY 

FREDERIC  MASSON 

DB  L'ACAD^MIB  FRAN9AISB 

TRANSLATED  BY 

KATHERINE  MILLER 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

1922 


Copyright,  1922,  by 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


Published  April,  1922 


CONTENTS 

PAOI 

Preface ix 

by  frederic  masson,  of  the  academie  francaise 

Introduction  to  the  Life  of  Emilie  de  Pellapra,  Comtesse 
DE  Brigode,  Princess  de  Chimay 1 

BY  princess  BIBESCO 

Memoirs  of  Emilie  de  Pellapra,  Princess  de  Chimay,  1849     29 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Princess  de  Chimay,  daughter  of  Madame  de  Pellapra    .  Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

Madame  de  Pellapra,  n#e  Leroy 24 

Miniature  of  Napoleon  I,  with  the  cockade  worn  by  the  Emperor 

at  the  battle  of  Austerlitz 50 

Mademoiselle  Leroy  at  fifteen  years  of  age 64 

Miniature  of  Napoleon,  for  which  the  Emperor  sat    ...     .  94 

Bracelet  given  by  the  Emperor  to  Madame  de  Pellapra  in  1815  .  94 

The  Princess  de  Chimay  as  a  child 108 

The  blue-enamel  watch  presented  to  Emelie  de  Pellapra  by  the 

Empress  Marie-Louise  on  her  visit  to  Caen 144 

Madame  de  Pellapra  in  1856 160 


PREFACE 

Princess  Bibesco,  nee  Lahovary,  has  asked  me  to  lay 
these  brief  memoirs  before  the  public  as  the  recollections  of 
her  husband's  grandmother. 

Her  choice  falls  on  me  because  in  one  of  my  books,  "  Napo- 
leon and  Women,"  there  is  an  allusion  to  the  heroine,  or 
rather  to  her  mother.  I  mentioned  Mme.  Pellapra,  whose 
daughter,  the  subject  of  these  memoirs,  was  first  Comtesse 
de  Brigode,  and  afterward  Princess  de  Chimay ;  and  without 
stating  directly  that  Mme.  Pellapra  became  a  mother,  I  did 
observe  that  she  had  attracted  the  attention  of  Napoleon. 
If  the  information  that  I  was  able  to  gather  were  not  so 
slight,  I  should  now  give  some  details  as  to  this  intimacy, 
for  my  intention  is  to  speak  only  of  events  in  which  the 
Emperor  took  part.  Near  as  we  are  now  to  the  centenary 
of  his  death,  the  thought  of  him  evokes  a  religious  respect. 
Some  one  has  recently  dared  to  say  that  this  last  war  has 
dimmed  the  brightness  of  his  glory,  but  in  spite  of  detrac- 
tors, he  remains  the  instructor  of  those  whose  achievements 
have  value,  whether  as  soldiers,  jurists,  administrators,  or 
leaders  of  men.  These  all  admit  and  proclaim,  indeed,  that 
without  him  and  the  impression  received  from  his  example, 
they  would  have  been  submerged  in  a  colorless  mass,  and 
disappeared  without  honor  or  renown.    During  the  century 


X  PREFACE 

just  ended  he  has  been  the  inspirer,  and  men  have  thought, 
struggled,  and  acted  with  mind  and  eyes  fixed  on  him. 
Life  goes  on,  but  he  stands  like  an  old  bridge  under  which 
flows  the  stream;  for  how  many  ages  to  come  will  men  van- 
ish beneath  his  arches?  Can  the  face  of  such  a  man,  so  in 
harmony  as  it  was  with  his  mind,  so  expressive  of  human 
genius,  be  gone  forever?  Does  nothing  remain  but  the 
plaster  mask  which,  even  after  decomposition  set  in,  re- 
tained and  multiplied  the  impression  indefinitely?  Napo- 
leon did  not  pass  away  without  leaving  children  who  are 
known,  whom  he  acknowledged,  like  Leon  and  Walewski — 
and  there  are  others  who  are  suspected  and  noticed,  whose 
faces  betray  them,  for  besides  the  marble  skin  gilded  with 
the  sun  of  Attica,  their  features  bear  a  majesty  not  to  be 
mistaken.  Sometimes  this  imperial  greatness  has  a  touch 
of  grace,  and,  without  falling  into  a  sort  of  prettiness  foreign 
to  its  character,  broadens  into  full  beauty,  radiant  and  al- 
most divine.  With  the  passage  of  years  this  beauty  may 
grow  heavy,  take  on  flesh,  lose  the  harmonious  slendemess 
which  gave  such  incomparable  elegance  to  his  body,  but 
besides  the  face  which  always  remains,  the  shape  lasts,  and 
the  extremities  excel  all  statues  by  their  perfection.  The 
women  who  knew  and  conceived  by  such  a  lover,  all  had 
beauty,  charm,  or  exquisite  qualities  in  a  superior  degree, 
with  the  exception  of  one,  for  whose  presence  in  this  com- 
pany it  is  difficult  to  account,  and  excepting  also  the  wife 
whose  defects  were  marks  of  race,  rendering  her  therefore 
desirable  only  to  the  great  ambition  which  embraced  in  her 


PREFACE  xi 

the  dynasty  from  which  she  sprung.  All  the  women  with 
whom  Napoleon  had  relations  were  full  of  dazzling  youth 
and  beauty,  such  as  excites  ardent  longing  by  eyes,  teeth, 
hair,  body,  the  whole  being,  but  in  which  can  be  sometimes 
detected  an  eager  desire  far  removed  from  love.  If  a  child 
was  bom  how  could  he  fail  to  inherit  from  father  and 
mother,  reproduce  the  features  and  form  of  both,  and  revert 
to  their  type?  No  doubt  in  the  course  of  life,  vices,  drunk- 
enness, drugs,  even  insanity,  might  blight  his  features,  and 
the  brute  show  through  the  angel;  but  in  early  days  only 
what  was  angelic  appeared,  or  at  least  the  being,  born  to 
power  and  love,  proud  of  eye  and  brow,  with  body  moulded 
by  an  artist  in  the  likeness  of  the  gods. 

Once  at  Saint-Gratien  the  Princess  Matilde  was  speaking 
to  me  of  the  children  of  the  Emperor  Napoleon,  and  I  went 
into  ecstasies  over  the  beauty  of  a  woman  whom  I  had 
seen  when  I  was  a  child,  and  who  seemed  the  living  image 
of  the  Emperor.  "What  would  you  have  thought  of  Prin- 
cess de  Chimay?"  said  the  Princess,  and  she  described  her 
to  me  as  the  incarnation  of  her  father. 

As  I  was  anxious  to  learn  more  about  her,  I  applied  to 
my  brother-in-law,  Lefebvre  de  Behaine,  a  man  twenty 
years  my  senior,  and  who  had  lived  in  the  great  world.  He 
had  known  her  well,  and  could  tell  me  much  about  her. 
There  was  no  doubt  as  to  her  birth,  he  said,  but  the  facts 
had  never  got  into  print.  It  was  one  of  the  secrets  of  so- 
ciety that  every  one  conspired  to  keep,  but  which  fades 
away  after  a  generation,  unless  some  old  frequenter  of  the 


xii  PREFACE 

polite  world  preserves  it  for  posterity;  nevertheless  it  is 
hard  to  understand  why  no  mention  was  made  of  the  story 
at  the  time  of  the  Teste  and  Cubieres  case  as  to  the  Gou- 
hanans  mines,  in  which  M.  Pellapra  was  interested.  The 
book  of  Revelations  revealed  nothing,  though  the  devil 
himself  confessed  to  being  the  author;  a  sure  proof  that 
communication  between  our  drawing-rooms  and  the  in- 
fernal regions  is  not,  after  all,  so  very  direct. 

When  a  lady  had  not  been  too  cruel,  her  sovereign  often 
found  a  place  in  the  Finance  Department  for  her  com- 
plaisant spouse;  thus  paying  a  debt  without  cost  to  the 
state.  Under  the  empire  we  find  among  others,  Madame 
Gazzani  at  the  receivership  of  Evreux,  Madame  Sourdeau 
at  Florence,  and  Madame  Pellapra  at  Caen.  In  my  book, 
"Napoleon  and  Women,"  I  noticed  that  when  the  Emperor 
met  Madame  Pellapra,  at  Caen,  in  1811,  "  it  was  probably 
not  for  the  first  time,"  but  the  question  is  settled  by  the 
arrival  of  a  witness  whose  features  put  the  matter  beyond 
a  doubt.  At  St.  Cloud  in  the  month  of  March,  1808, 
Napoleon  first  saw  Franfoise  Marie  Emilie  Leroy,  who  was 
married  to  Leu  Henri  Alain  Pellapra.  They  met  three  or 
four  times,  first  at  St.  Cloud,  sometimes  at  the  Tuileries, 
and  on  the  11th  of  November,  1808,  Emilie  Marie  Fran- 
goise  Josephine  was  born.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  the  good 
position  which  Madame  Pellapra  had  obtained  for  her  hus- 
band brought  her  again  to  the  notice  of  the  Emperor.  In 
1811  he  renewed  his  relation  with  her  at  the  time  of  his 
visit  to  Caen,  but  it  was  brief,  and  the  secret  so  well  kept 


PREFACE  xiii 

that  even  in  the  household  it  was  believed  that  their  in- 
timacy did  not  begin  till  after  his  second  marriage. 

Little  Emilie,  who  was  only  two  years  old  at  the  time  of 
this  trip  to  Caen,  was  too  much  of  a  baby  to  be  seen,  but 
her  turn  came  when,  in  1813,  the  Empress  Marie  Louise 
visited  Cherbourg  to  open  the  Bassin  Napoleon.  Her 
Majesty  was  graciously  pleased  to  be  present  at  an  open- 
air  entertainment,  where  it  would  seem  that  she  met  with 
a  pleasant  surprise:  "A  cantata  was  performed  in  honor  of 
her  Majesty  by  nineteen  ladies,  chosen  in  the  town  for 
beauty  and  distinction.  They  wore  the  Normandy  cos- 
tume, and  carried  baskets  filled  with  fruits  and  flowers. 
Afterward  came  a  young  child,  borne  on  a  rich  platform, 
where  were  two  gilded  barrels  containing,  one  milk,  the 
other  cider;  the  child  descended  from  the  car  holding  two 
crystal  goblets,  from  which  she  poured  libations  of  these 
national  productions  at  the  feet  of  her  Majesty.  Several 
guards  of  honor,  dressed  as  graziers  from  the  valley  of  the 
Auge,  made  homage  of  a  superb  white  bull,  his  horns  gilded 
and  wreathed  with  garlands  and  purple  streamers,  and 
finally  the  captain  of  the  guard  of  honor  presented  to  her 
Majesty  the  finest  Normandy  horse  of  the  whole  depart- 
ment. Then  followed  dancing,  games,  and  trumpets.  The 
Empress  gave  two  watches,  one  of  which  was  bestowed  on 
Mile.  Eugenie  (sic)  Pellapra,  a  child  of  four  years  old,  who 
had  acted  in  the  pastoral  play." 

Mile.  Pellapra  speaks  herself  of  what  she  had  probably 
been  told  of  the  scenes  in  which  she  took  part,  for  it  is  im- 


xiv  PREFACE 

probable  that  she  remembered  them,  though  the  Journal 
of  the  Empire  was  at  hand  to  refresh  her  memory.  We 
now  come  to  more  serious  assertions  which  are  corroborated 
by  graver  testimony.  What  took  place  between  1813  and 
1815?  What  was  M.  Pellapra's  attitude  toward  his  wife? 
Did  she  remain  with  him  at  Caen  until  the  first  days  of 
1815?  It  is  certain  that  she  was  at  Lyons  on  the  10th  of 
March,  for  she  is  mentioned  in  a  pamphlet  entitled  "  Bona- 
parte at  Lyons." 

More  authentic  information  can  be  found  in  the  mem- 
oirs of  the  Emperor's  valet  de  chambre:  "Mme.  P.,"  he 
says,  "was  at  Lyons  with  her  family  when  the  Emperor 
arrived,  and  she  shared  the  enthusiasm  of  the  populace 
with  her  whole  heart  and  soul.  The  Emperor  sent  me  to 
her,  for  as  she  had  been  some  days  at  Lyons  he  could  learn 
a  great  deal  from  a  conversation  with  her,  but  the  difficulty 
was  to  find  time  in  the  midst  of  the  excitement  around 
him.  He  was  obliged  to  give  her  an  audience  late  in  the 
evening  as  the  pressure  of  his  affairs  did  not  allow  him  to 
see  her  earlier." 

It  is  much  to  be  doubted  that  he  saw  her  again  in  Paris, 
but  she  was  constantly  in  his  thoughts.  Marchand  writes: 
"On  the  11th  of  June  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening  the  Em- 
peror gave  me  two  good-sized  packages  sealed  with  his 
arms.  He  told  me  to  take  one  to  Mme.  Walewska,  and  the 
other  to  Mme.  Pellapra." 

We  may  believe  that  she  renewed  acquaintance  with  the 
valet  de  chambre  whom  she  had  known  familiarly  when 


PREFACE 


XV 


with  the  Emperor,  for  when  he  left  the  Elysee,  after  Water- 
loo, he  says:  "Mme.  P.  expressed  deep  regret  to  me  that 
she  could  not  go  to  Malmaison  without  the  orders  of  the 
Emperor;  but  when  she  wished  to  speak  with  him  she  met 
him  in  the  neighborhood."  "On  the  28th  June,"  he  writes, 
"Mme.  P.,  whom  I  had  seen  at  Rueil,  bade  me  tell  the  Em- 
peror that  the  Duke  of  Otranto  was  in  treaty  with  M.  de 
Vitrolles,  and  that  the  commissioners  sent  to  the  camp  of 
the  enemy  had  not  been  listened  to." 

"Mme.  P.,"  he  says  finally,  "also  came  to  Malmaison, 
bringing  heartfelt  consolation  to  the  Emperor,  which  touched 
him  deeply.  The  thought  of  her  at  St.  Helena  could  some- 
times banish  the  weariness  of  captivity  as  he  remembered 
her  beauty  and  goodness  of  heart." 

Such  is  the  fitting  end  of  this  liaison,  sanctified  by  memory 
in  the  prison  where  the  English  held  the  Emperor  captive 
to  the  last,  and  where  past  triumphs  could  alone  bring  back 
to  him  a  little  of  their  tenderness,  their  beauty,  and  their 

^^     '  Frederic  Masson. 

De  l'Academie  Francaise. 


INTRODUCTION 

BY 

PRINCESS  BIBESCO 


INTRODUCTION 

"  Thou  of  whom  it  was  my  mother's  boast  to  be  the  child." 

—Racine  (Phidre). 

1WAS  fifteen  years  of  age  when,  as  her  future  daughter- 
in-law,  I  was  placed  in  the  care  of  my  aunt,  Princess 
Georges  Bibesco,*  and  I,  fortunately,  understood  at  once  that 
her  rod  was  really  a  magic  wand,  that  no  fate  could  have 
suited  me  better,  for  if  the  fairies  were  not  at  my  baptism 
I  was  sure  of  one  at  my  wedding,  since  my  mother-in-law 
was  a  fairy  herself.  She  was  conscious,  I  believe,  of  her 
powers  of  enchantment,  in  which  she  took  a  malicious  plea- 
sure, and  bewitched  me  by  talking  of  Napoleon.  She  would 
let  me  see  and  handle  things  that  had  belonged  to  the  Em- 
peror— a  cambric  handkerchief,  a  penknife,  or  a  smelling- 
bottle — then,  pointing  to  a  locket  she  wore,  she  would  show 
me  that  it  contained  a  singularly  expressive  miniature,  for 
which  the  Emperor  had  sat — he  who  rarely  sat  for  his  por- 
trait, he  whose  days  were  so  full  and  who  had  so  little  pa- 
tience! For  whose  sake  had  he  snatched  these  moments 
from  his  wonderful  life,  and  why  did  he  give  them  ? 

There  was  another  miniature  more  like  his  official  por- 
traits, taken  in  the  green  uniform  of  Colonel  of  the  Guard, 

♦Valentine  de  Riquet,  Comtesse  de  Caraman-Chimay,  Princesse 
Bibesco,  bom  at  Menars,  February,  1839,  died  at  Bucharest,  August 
25th,  1914. 

3 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 


with  the  grand  cordon  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  across  his 
white  waistcoat.  It  was  framed  in  ebony  with  metal  orna- 
ments, and  surmounted  by  the  Napoleonic  eagle.  Stuck  in 
the  top  of  the  frame  was  a  red-white-and-blue  cockade, 
faded  and  blackened  with  powder,  and  on  the  back  of  the 
picture  was  a  label  with  these  words  in  my  mother-in-law's 
handwriting:  "Cockade  worn  by  the  Emperor  Napoleon  at 
the  battle  of  Austerlitz,  taken  from  His  Majesty's  hat  by 
Mme.  de  Pellapra,  my  grandmother." 

I  was  so  dazzled  I  felt  as  if  the  sun  were  shining  directly  in 
my  eye|,  for  I  realized  that  my  aunt,  that  remarkable  person 
whom  I  should  soon  call  mother,  was  united  to  the  Emperor 
by  some  mysterious  tie  as  yet  unknown  to  me,  but  I  was 
assured  that  when  I  became  a  woman  the  secret  would  be 
disclosed. 

In  the  meanwhile  I  was  only  a  schoolgirl,  with  a  govern- 
ess to  rule  over  me,  seeing  my  parents-in-law  on  Thursdays 
and  Sundays,  and  receiving  visits  from  my  betrothed,  which 
were  a  great  interruption  to  my  lessons. 

My  studies  were  still  incomplete,  and  my  head  was  filled 
with  history.  I  had  just  come  to  the  French  Empire,  and, 
fond  as  I  was  of  reading,  there  were  few  books  considered 
proper  for  me;  but  I  unearthed  a  work  in  six  volumes  of  a 
reassuringly  dull  exterior,  in  which  I  delighted — it  was  the 
"  Memoires  d'Outre  Tombe."  I  went  about  repeating  its  in- 
toxicating phrases  to  myself,  especially  this,  showing  the 
height  to  which  Napoleon  had  brought  the  greatness  of 
France,  "At  this  time  Rome  was  a  French  city,  capital  of 


INTRODUCTION 


the  department  of  the  Tiber,"  and  another  which  expressed 
my  own  sentiments  exactly:  "The  world  belongs  to  Bona- 
parte; his  renown  usurps  what  the  ravager  could  not  con- 
quer; he  lost  all  while  living  to  possess  all  in  death.  Make 
what  claim  you  will,  the  generations  turn  a  deaf  ear  as  they 
pass." 

Chateaubriand  alone  among  his  contemporaries  has  spoken 
of  Napoleon  with  befitting  splendor.  I  knew  his  "Act  of 
Contrition"  by  heart — ^a  rare  proof  of  humility  that  Napo- 
leon forced  from  R6n6,  the  proudest  of  his  century;  but  there 
is  something  lofty  in  a  haughty  submission,  which  Chateau- 
briand showed  when  he  wrote:  "To  fall  from  Napoleon  and 
his  empire  to  that  which  followed  is  to  drop  from  reality  to 
nothingness,  from  a  mountain-peak  into  a  gulf.  Does  not 
everything  come  to  an  end  with  Napoleon?  Perhaps  I 
ought  to  have  spoken  of  other  things,  but  what  personality 
can  interest  us  beside  his?  In  the  other  life,  Dante  only 
was  great  enough  to  associate  with  the  poets  whom  he  found 
there,  and  how  mention  Louis  XVIII  after  the  Emperor? 
I  blush  to  think  that  we  must  now  breathe  amid  a  throng  of 
petty  creatures,  myself  among  the  number,  vague  insects  of 
a  dim  world  from  which  the  great  sun  has  withdrawn." 
"Napoleon's  fate  was  a  muse,"  that  is  why  it  will  always 
reign  in  the  hearts  of  children,  for  they  are  poets,  and  in  the 
hearts  of  peoples,  who  are  but  children. 

I  had  watched  too  often  the  "great  sun"  set  beneath  the 
Arc  de  I'Etoile  not  to  feel  the  force  of  Chateaubriand's  image. 

In  Paris  Napoleon  fills  the  field  of  vision.    We  lived  in  the 


A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 


Rue  de  Rivoli  when  I  was  a  child,  and  from  my  window  I 
could  see  the  dome  of  the  Invalides  over  the  tops  of  the 
trees.  Then  we  moved  to  the  Avenue  Marceau,  and  finally 
to  the  Champs  Elysees,  so  I  could  not  go  out  of  the  house 
without  seeing  Napoleon  at  the  end  of  the  two  avenues.  He 
dominates  the  Rue  de  la  Paix  from  the  Place  Vendome;  he 
is  rooted  at  the  Louvre,  where  the  Arc  du  Carrousel  rises 
tinted  like  an  almond  flower;  his  bridges  stride  across  the 
Seine,  and  he  seems  to  overshadow  even  the  Middle  Ages, 
since  we  are  reminded  of  his  coronation  when  we  go  to 
Notre  Dame. 

To  put  the  finishing  touch  to  his  ascendancy  over  me,  I 
was  at  last  forced  to  defend  him.  I  had  great  love,  even 
admiration,  for  an  uncle  of  mine,  whose  generous  nature  had 
thrown  him  into  a  kind  of  humanitarian  idealism.  One  day 
he  said  to  try  me:  *' Which  is  the  greater,  Pasteur  or  Napo- 
leon? Speak  quick  now!"  His  fingers  closed  sharply  on 
my  arm,  and  his  eyes  held  mine.  I  had  to  choose  between  a 
benefactor  of  the  race  and  one  whom  he  wished  me  to  con- 
sider as  a  slaughterer  of  men.  "Speak  up;  which  was  the 
greater?"  With  tears  in  my  eyes  I  felt  that  I  was  lowering 
myself  in  the  estimation  of  one  whose  good  opinion  I  highly 
valued,  but  I  stuck  to  my  colors.  "Napoleon,"  I  answered, 
as  distinctly  as  I  could. 

From  that  day  I  was  morally  disinherited  by  my  uncle, 
but  I  held  firm.  Heated  discussions  often  took  place,  in 
which  it  was  clearly  proved  that  even  from  the  military  and 
political  point  of  view  Napoleon  was  criminal,  since  he  left 


INTRODUCTION 


a  diminished  France.  I  replied  that  he  had  gained  for  her 
the  illimitable  frontiers  of  the  soul,  to  which  my  uncle  re- 
sponded conclusively:  "Tertullian  has  defined  man  as  a 
glorified  animal,  a  description  applicable  perhaps  to  women 
or  even  to  little  girls."  I  knew  that  I  was  one  of  these  ani- 
mals, and  that  is  why  my  mother-in-law  made  me  so  happy 
when  she  told  me  of  the  Emperor  some  years  later.  I  shall 
always  be  grateful  to  her  for  this  imaginative  delight. 

The  traditional  "corbeille"  was  sent  to  me  the  day  before 
my  wedding.  It  was  not  really  a  basket,  but  large  boxes 
covered  with  satin  or  leather,  containing  jewels  presented  to 
me  by  my  family-in-law.  I  was  particularly  touched  by 
three  Napoleonic  gifts:  one  a  blue-enamel  watch  with  a  fine 
chain  and  key,  showing  on  one  side  the  monogram  of  Marie 
Louise,  and  the  bee  on  the  other;  "the  Empress'  watch"; 
then  a  heavy  gold  bracelet,  set  with  rubies,  brilliants,  and 
emeralds,  engraved  with  emblems  of  war  in  the  antique 
style,  "The  bracelet  sent  by  Napoleon  to  Mme.  de  Pellapra 
on  his  return  from  Elba"*;  and,  third,  a  diamond  solitaire. 
My  mother-in-law  explained  that  this  last  "was  the  Em- 
peror's diamond,  brought  back  from  St.  Helena  by  M.  de  la 
Cases  and  given  by  him  to  my  mother.  Mile,  de  Pellapra." 

"The  return  from  Elba,  St.  Helena"— these  words  touched 
me  deeply.  I  was  not  yet  able  to  understand  the  full  mean- 
ing of  the  presents  which  I  had  just  received,  but  later  on 
it  was  made  clear  to  me. 

*  This  bracelet  must  have  been  In  the  packet  sealed  with  Napoleon's 

arms  that  Marchand  took  to  Mme.  P from  the  Emperor,  as  we 

learn  from  M.  Frederic  Masson,  in  the  passage  above  quoted. 


8  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

My  mother-in-law  told  the  story  of  her  grandmother's 
adventure  in  many  different  ways,  and  I  seem  now  to  hear 
her  answer  to  a  lady  who  questioned  her  somewhat  too 
closely,  with  a  touch  of  prudishness:  "Dear  madam,"  she 
said,  "my  grandmother  was  very  beautiful,  and  the  Em- 
peror, as  you  know,  was  fond  of  travel." 

She  made  no  attempt  to  hide  the  source  from  whence  she 
sprung,  but  was  rather  proud  of  it.  I  can  imagine  her  in- 
voking the  star  of  Napoleon,  as  Phedre  did  the  sun,  for  like 
a  ray  of  light  she  descended  directly  from  the  Emperor, 
through  her  mother,  the  beautiful  Mile,  de  Pellapra,  later 
Comtesse  de  Brigode  and  then  Princesse  de  Chimay. 

As  for  the  grandmother,  Mme.  de  Pellapra,  whose  name 
was  also  Emilie,  her  granddaughter  held  her  in  the  tenderest 
aflFection.  Her  portrait  stood  in  the  place  of  honor  in  the 
room  where  my  mother-in-law  liked  best  to  sit.  She  is  there 
depicted  in  an  empire  dress  of  white  silk  gauze,  richly  em- 
broidered in  feather-stitch,  with  flowers  in  white  silk. 
Through  the  light,  almost  transparent  material  the  eye  can 
easily  follow  the  lines  of  her  pliant,  elastic  young  figure. 
One  audacious  little  foot  shows  itself  below  the  delicate  skirt, 
clothed  in  pale-blue  satin,  the  tiny  slipper  attached  by  rib- 
bons crossed  around  the  leg,  like  the  classic  cothurn.  The 
face  is  that  of  a  pretty  French  bourgeoise,  rather  dark- 
skinned,  but  with  blue  eyes  and  a  mocking  smile,  that  shows 
the  dimple  in  her  cheek.  In  the  fashion  of  the  day,  she 
wears  an  Indian  shawl  thrown  over  her  arm,  brought  from 
Egypt  and  yellow  in  color,  and  the  whole  figure  breathes  a 


INTRODUCTION 


coquettish  air.  Beside  the  lady,  on  the  rock  where  she 
rather  reclines  than  sits,  is  her  hat,  with  its  long,  rose- 
colored  feather,  evidently  from  the  smartest  milliner. 

In  M.  Frederic  Masson's  book,  "Napoleon  and  Women," 
I  do  not  find  the  particule  "de"  in  Mme.  de  Pellapra's  name, 
and  I  am  therefore  led  to  believe  that  it  grew  up  later  in  the 
imagination  of  the  princely  descendants  of  the  lady  who  was 
thus  ennobled  by  her  offspring,  in  the  Chinese  manner. 
Emilie  Leroy,  to  call  her  by  her  maiden  name,  was  born  at 
Lyons,  and  it  was  there,  according  to  an  oral  tradition 
handed  down  in  the  family,  that  for  the  first  time  Napoleon 
saw,  desired,  and,  for  a  little  while,  even  loved  her.  Later 
on  he  met  her  at  St.  Cloud,  at  Paris,  and  afterward  at  Caen. 

If  Leda  requires  any  greater  excuse  than  that  she  was 
dazzled  and  bewildered  by  the  swan  and  the  Thunderer — 
if  she  must  be  pardoned  for  the  weakness  which  made  her 
yield  to  him  to  whom  all  the  world  yielded— justification 
will  be  found  in  the  Memoirs  of  her  daughter,  where  de 
Pellapra  is  represented  as  the  worst  and  most  detestable  of 
men. 

A  statesman  once  said  of  a  young  woman  whose  virtue 
was  praised  in  his  hearing,  that  she  could  only  "fall  up," 
and  so  it  proved  when  a  royal  lover  came  in  her  way. 

Poor  Leda,  with  how  many  tears  and  humiliations,  harsh- 
ness and  insults— for  the  pamphleteers  of  1815  did  not 
spare  her— was  she  made  to  pay  for  her  little  day  of  glory, 
her  fault,  one  lightning-flash  of  love ! 

The  I  ith  of  November,  1808,  she  brought  a  little  girl  into 


10  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

the  world,  to  whom  she  gave  her  own  Christian  name  of 
Emilie.* 

M.  de  Pellapra  did  not  repudiate  his  wife,  but  for  four 
years  she  was  separated  from  the  child,  whom  he  refused  to 
see.  It  is  during  this  period  of  her  infancy  that  Mme.  de 
Chimay  begins  her  Memoirs. 

We  see  her  at  Lyons  in  the  house  of  her  maternal  grand- 
mother, Mme.  Leroy.  She  tells  of  watering  the  nasturtiums 
on  the  balcony,  of  an  old  nurse  who  danced  sarabands  to 
amuse  her,  and  a  younger  maid  who  used  to  dress  her. 
Even  at  four  years  old  she  was  already  so  handsome  that  the 
passers-by  stopped  to  tell  her  so.  She  speaks  of  this  public 
admiration  as  the  "usual  accompaniment"  of  her  walks. 
This  remarkable  beauty  was  hers  through  life;  she  wore  it 
with  dignity,  even  piously,  as  a  sort  of  sacrament  received 
from  her  birth.  She  impressed  this  so  strongly  on  the  mind 
of  her  daughter.  Princess  Bibesco,  that  the  latter  always  re- 
fused to  admire  any  of  the  young  women  of  her  circle;  since 
the  face  which  shone  with  unique  perfection  was  eclipsed, 
they  all  seemed  to  her  lost  in  a  sort  of  twilight  of  beauty. 

"No  other  woman  is  worth  looking  at  after  you  have  seen 
my  mother,"  she  used  to  say. 

*  The  date  of  the  birth  of  Emilie  de  Pellapra  Is  still  uncertain.  The 
register  of  births  in  the  city  of  Lyons  bears  the  date  1806,  accepted  by 
the  Almanach  de  Gotha.  The  death  register  of  the  parish  and  mairie  of 
Menars  gives  the  date  of  11th  November,  1809.  In  her  Memoirs  the 
Princess  de  Chimay  says  that  she  and  the  King  of  Rome  were  of  the 
same  age.  She  states  that  she  was  four  years  old  in  1815,  which  would 
place  her  birth  in  1811  and  make  her  twenty  at  the  date  of  her  second 
marriage  in  1830.  M.  Frederic  Masson,  whose  authority  is  final,  thinks 
that  she  was  born  in  1808. 


INTRODUCTION  11 


It  was  precisely  this  lovely  face  that  seemed  to  exas- 
perate the  father  bestowed  on  little  Emilie  by  the  law,  ran- 
corous and  morose  as  he  was.  He  often  struck  her  in  the 
face,  as  she  tells  us  herself.  "  I  can  see  myself  in  my  father's 
study,  hiding  my  bruised  cheeks  with  my  hands,  .  .  .  and 
I  can  also  remember  the  loss  of  my  beautiful  long  curls, 
that  they  cut  off  as  if  I  had  been  a  convict.  .  .  ." 

The  excuse  for  all  this  violence  was  that  she  was  naughty 
at  her  music  lesson !  But  she  had  no  ear.  Napoleon  sang 
false,  and  did  not  care  for  music. 

The  beauty  which  she  held  so  dear  was  inherited  from  her 
real  father  (for  you  have  only  to  look  at  the  mask  in  the 
Invalides  to  see  that  his  features  were  like  those  attributed 
to  the  gods),  but  she  only  saw  him  once  in  her  life.  It  was 
at  the  review  of  the  Federates  during  the  Hundred  Days. 
She  and  her  mother  were  at  a  window  in  the  Tuileries,  over- 
looking the  Carrousel,  and  there  she  saw  him  on  his  white 
horse,  riding  along  the  front  of  his  troops. 

She  writes  very  simply  and  naturally,  but  though  she  com- 
plains that  she  is  but  ill  equipped  in  her  native  tongue, 
stirred  by  this  emotion,  which  lasted  vividly  for  so  many 
years,  she  finds  the  most  striking  expressions  to  render  the 
effect  that  the  presence  of  Napoleon  had  on  all  men.  She 
says:  "A  living  fascination  sprang  from  him." 

In  1815,  as  Chateaubriand  says,  "Napoleon  invaded 
France  alone,"  when  he  found  Mme.  de  Pellapra  again  by 
his  side.    She  had  just  returned  from  the  great  military 


12  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

highways,  where  in  a  sort  of  operetta  disguise  she  had  gone 
to  distribute  tricolor  cockades  to  Ney's  army.  Dressed  as 
a  peasant  carrying  her  eggs  to  market,  mounted  on  a  don- 
key, she  on  one  side  and  her  three-colored  eggs  on  the  other, 
no  one  thought  of  stopping  her !  She  laughed  and  rode  on, 
with  no  password  but  a  joke.  These  things  only  happen  in 
France  and  in  French  history.  The  soldiers  threw  away 
their  white  badges,  crying:  "Hooray  for  the  hen  that  lays 
three-colored  eggs  V 

During  the  Hundred  Days  the  Emperor  had  to  reconsti- 
tute the  empire,  to  reanimate  his  genius,  his  mind  filled  with 
the  task,  striving  to  gather  again  in  his  mighty  hands  the 
usurped  thunders,  the  scattered  forces  of  France.  But  nev- 
ertheless he  found  time  to  order  from  his  jeweller  in  Paris  a 
bracelet  to  reward  a  woman's  courage.  He  wished  it  to  be 
ornamented  only  with  shields,  helmets,  and  swords,  being 
destined  for  a  woman  who  had  reanimated  the  spirit  of  his 
soldiers  and  inspired  them  again  to  take  up  arms  in  his  cause. 

Emilie,  the  writer  of  the  Memoirs,  and  Valentine,  Princess 
Bibesco,  agree  in  saying  that  Mme.  de  Pellapra  was  nothing 
but  a  child  all  her  life,  kind  but  frivolous  and  laughter- 
loving,  with,  so  to  speak,  no  brains,  and  liking  chiefly  to 
dress  and  amuse  herself;  yet  for  Napoleon's  sake  she  was 
now  willing  to  do  more  and  better  than  before;  she  throws 
herself  into  political  life,  with  all  its  wearisome  and  ugly  de- 
tails, while  the  wife,  Marie  Louise,  disappoints  expectation 
and  remains  away — it  is  said  for  the  good  reason  that  she  is 
about  to  bear  a  child  to  M.  de  Niepperg ! 


INTRODUCTION  13 


"This  woman,  this  stranger,"  says  M.  Frederic  Masson, 
"might  absent  herself,  but  others  came,  no  matter  from 
where — ^from  France,  from  Ireland,  from  Poland — and  in 
those  last  glorious  days,  during  that  short  reign  of  three 
months,  they  surrounded  the  Emperor  with  faithfulness  and 
beauty,  and  rejoiced  his  heart  by  their  enthusiasm.  Even 
those  least  adapted  to  it  entered  the  secret  service  through 
devotion,  and  more  by  instinct  than  reasoning  gave  him 
advice  that  he  would  have  done  well  to  follow.  A  case  in 
point  is  Georges,  as  to  Fouche,  and  Mme.  Pellapra,  who 
hurried  back  from  Lyons,  where  she  had  detected  certain 
actions  of  the  Duke  of  Otranto." 

From  the  side  of  the  grave,  from  the  sad  willow-shaded 
geranium  valley,  where  funeral  iris  grows,  the  diamond  that 
I  inherited  was  sent  by  Napoleon  to  the  little  Emilie. 

It  shone  under  the  melancholy  sky  of  St.  Helena;  and 
when  the  Emperor  made  up  his  accounts  at  the  last  its  value 
was  deducted  from  the  little  that  remained  to  him,  that  it 
might  bear  the  remembrance  of  a  father  to  his  child. 

It  was  no  doubt  from  interested  motives,  in  the  hope  of 
retaining  his  place  as  receiver-general  of  Calvados,  that 
M.  de  Pellapra  obliged  his  wife  to  go  to  meet  the  Due  de 
Berry  on  his  return  from  England.  Emilie  gives  an  account 
of  it:  "I  went  with  my  mother  in  a  barouche  to  meet  the 
Due  de  Berry  on  his  arrival  at  Caen." 

The  child,  all  unconsciously,  had  her  revenge,  and  that 
of  the  Emperor;  for  she  saw  "a  dusty  carriage,  and  out  of  it 
stepped  an  ugly,  stout,  heavy,  common-looking  person,  not 


14  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

at  all  my  idea  of  a  prince,  so  underbred  and  vulgar  was  his 
appearance.  .  .  ."  She  also  calls  him  "the  Highness  who 
came  from  England  in  the  train  of  the  Russians." 

She  saw  him  again  the  next  day  in  the  gardens  of  the  Pre- 
fecture, where  he  paid  Mme.  de  Pellapra  rather  a  clumsy 
compliment,  somewhat  at  her  daughter's  expense.  "She  will 
never  be  as  pretty  as  her  mother,"  said  he,  as  he  looked  at 
the  little  girl,  and  it  is  clear  that  this  made  her  very  angry. 
She  detested  the  Due  de  Berry,  and  compares  the  poor  effect 
he  made  on  arriving  with  the  triumphal  entry  of  the  Empress, 
all  the  pomp  of  which  had  passed  before  her  so  short  a  time 
since,  in  the  same  surroundings,  when  she  had  been  the  lit- 
tle queen  of  the  day,  had  been  caressed  by  Marie  Louise, 
and  had  received  the  blue-enamel  watch  set  with  pearls. 
Writing  of  this  in  1849  she  says  sadly:  "A  charming  watch 
with  the  imperial  monogram — I  have  kept  it  carefully,  and 
it  is  better  preserved  now  than  I  am  1" 

I  am  positive  that  M.  de  Pellapra  insisted  that  his  wife 
should  be  present  at  the  festivities  at  Caen  given  for  the 
Due  de  Berry,  and  that  she  was  not  guilty  of  the  moral  in- 
fidelity. What  confirms  me  in  this  idea  is  that  as  soon  as 
the  Emperor  landed  from  Elba,  Mme.  de  Pellapra  flew  to 
meet  him  at  Lyons. 

After  Waterloo  and  St.  Helena  the  poor  woman  resigned 
herself  to  the  joyless  life  under  the  Restoration,  overshad- 
owed by  her  obnoxious  husband.  M.  de  Pellapra  had  a  tal- 
ent for  money-making,  and  by  this  time  he  had  become  very 
rich,  and  had  begun  to  be  an  important  person  in  the  social 


INTRODUCTION  15 


world.  Thus  the  little  girl,  now  growing  up,  and  her  still 
beautiful  mother  were  necessary  to  enhance  the  display  of 
his  wealth.  A  man  who  has  well-turned-out  carriages  needs 
a  woman  to  set  them  off  properly.  He  had  bought  the  for- 
mer Hotel  de  Bouillon,  on  the  Quai  Malaquais,  once  occu- 
pied by  Marie  Mancine,*  and  placed  his  pretty  birds  in 
this  splendid  cage. 

When  his  interest  or  his  amusements  required  he  did  not 
allow  his  family  to  interfere  with  either,  and  he  often  left 
home.  He  mingled  in  circles  where  his  wife  and  daughter 
were  not  received,  and  when  he  was  in  his  own  house  made 
it  disagreeable  to  every  creature  in  it. 

In  her  Memoirs  little  Emilie  tells  of  her  unhappy  child- 
hood and  of  her  affection  for  Denis,  her  father's  maltre 
d'h6tel.  He  seems  to  have  been  the  only  person  in  those 
days  who  showed  her  friendship  and  kindness,  things  with- 
out which  a  child  cannot  live.  "True  feeling  is  only  found 
in  the  people,"  said  Napoleon,  when  he  heard  the  cheers  of 
the  crowd  faithful  to  him  in  defeat,  as  he  stood  in  the  gar- 
den of  the  Elysee,  deserted  by  all  his  high  dignitaries.  This 
love,  first  inspired  by  Denis,  for  the  poor,  for  the  servants- 
natural  to  children,  who  find  in  their  inferiors  consolation 
for  their  own  subordinate  position—this  sort  of  feeling  lasted 
with  Emilie  to  the  end  of  her  life. 

After  the  death  of  her  first  husband,  the  Comte  de  Bri- 
gode,  she  retired  to  the  chateau  of  M6nars.  There  in  the 
evening  she  used  to  teach  such  of  her  servants  as  did  not 
*Now  the  Hdtel  des  Beaux  Arts. 


16  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

know  how  to  read.  Once,  hearing  a  noise  in  her  room,  and 
suspecting  the  presence  of  a  lover,  her  mother  entered  and 
surprised  her  in  this  occupation. 

Little  Emilie  was  virtuous  then  and  always.  It  seemed 
as  if  purity  was  in  the  character  of  her  beauty,  full  of  a  sort 
of  calm  majesty.  Her  tenderness  for  her  mother,  which 
dominated  her  whole  life,  did  not  nevertheless  blind  her  to 
the  disadvantages  of  a  damaged  reputation,  but  she  was 
closely  united  to  this  charming,  imprudent  mother,  and  re- 
mained with  her  up  to  the  time  of  her  marriage.  She  was 
engaged  to  young  M.  de  Brigode,  who  died  in  Florence  of  a 
malignant  fever,  and  she  then  married  his  father.  After  his 
death  other  young  suitors  presented  themselves,  but  she  en- 
couraged none  of  them.  This  part  of  her  Memoirs  betrays 
how  ardently  she  longed  both  for  herself  and  her  mother  to 
acquire  consideration,  a  thing  one  must  possess,  as  Beau- 
marchais  says,  and  without  which  nothing  is  of  value. 

At  sixteen  years  of  age  she  had  but  two  ambitions:  to 
gain  a  defender  for  her  mother  and  herself  against  M.  de 
Pellapra's  evil  tempers,  and  to  find  shelter  from  the  calum- 
nies of  the  world  under  the  protection  of  a  man  of  good  posi- 
tion, a  peer  of  France,  who  loved  her  devotedly  and  accepted 
all  her  conditions,  the  first  of  which  was  that  he  would  never 
separate  her  from  her  mother.  Such  were  the  motives  which 
impelled  her  to  this  prudent  marriage;  and  walking  on  the 
terrace  of  the  Chateau  de  Noisel,  which  overhangs  the  Marne, 
she  confessed  them  frankly  to  M.  de  Brigode  with  honest 
and  touching  sincerity. 


INTRODUCTION  17 


From  this  time  the  lives  of  this  mother  and  daughter  were 
never  parted,  bound  together  as  they  were  by  the  memory 
of  him  whom  they  dreamed  of  in  secret. 

They  were  very  different  in  character,  as  different  as  pos- 
sible— the  mother  gay,  frivolous,  and  careless,  with  no  reli- 
gious principles;  courageous,  as  we  have  seen,  and  charming, 
but  weak  and  foolish,  losing  her  head  in  any  emergency. 
Once,  when  she  thought  her  daughter  dying,  she  tried  to 
poison  herself,  and  again  nearly  killed  her  by  some  remedies 
she  tried.  On  the  other  hand,  the  daughter,  serious  and 
pure,  proud  of  her  irreproachable  conduct,  loving  God  with- 
out having  been  taught,  feeling  deeply  her  maternal  respon- 
sibilities, not  only  toward  her  children  when  they  came  but, 
above  all,  toward  her  child-mother,  whom  she  never  left,  ac- 
cording to  the  vow  she  made  to  herself — and  perhaps  to  the 
great  shadow  which  hovered  over  them  both. 

Fate  sometimes  draws  people  together  in  a  way  that 
seems  more  like  irony  than  simple  chance.  Thus,  when  the 
daughter  of  Napoleon  married  for  the  second  time,  her 
mother-in-law  was  Therezia  Cabarrus,  formerly  Mme.  Tal- 
lien,  then  Princess  de  Chimay.  She  also  had  settled  down 
and  was  completely  sunk  in  devotion.  The  friend  of  the 
gay  days — perhaps  somewhat  too  lively — under  the  Direc- 
tory, the  companion  of  Josephine  at  Barras's  little  suppers, 
now  by  this  marriage  mingled  her  blood  with  that  of  Napo- 
leon. 

When  she  speaks  of  her  first  interview  with  poor  Th6r6zia, 
Emilie's  tone  takes  on  instinctively  the  paternal  severity; 


18  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

but  it  must  be  said  that  she  only  knew  her  as  "a  Spanish 
matron,  enormously  stout,  and  without  a  trace  of  distinc- 
tion. .  .  ."  EmiHe  is  surprised  that  the  Princess  de  Chimay 
is  not  as  handsome  as  her  son;  but  perhaps  it  was  he  who 
took  his  mother's  beauty. 

All  women  die  for  the  first  time  with  their  youth;  and  cer- 
tainly she  was  no  more  of  this  world,  that  goddess,  who  had 
dared  to  show  herself  naked  as  truth,  with  no  stone  cast  at 
her  till  long  afterward,  and  by  those  who  had  not  seen  her. 
No,  she  was  no  more,  the  woman  who  wrote  that  fierce 
laconic  note  to  Tallien:  "To-morrow  I  appear  before  the 
Revolutionary  Tribunal,  and  I  am  ready  to  die  with  the  de- 
spair of  belonging  to  a  coward  like  you." 

She  was  no  more,  who  tamed  and  stopped  the  Terror,  for 
whose  sake  the  guillotine  was  thrown  down,  lest  her  fair 
white  throat  should  be  hurt;  the  good  Therezia  was  gone 
who  received  from  the  people  of  Paris  absolution  for  her 
sins,  and  a  nickname  that  rehabilitates  and  almost  sanctifies 
her:  "Notre  Dame  de  Thermidor"  ! 

To  each  age  comes  rescue  in  the  shape  which  it  deserves; 
a  virgin  saved  France  in  the  Middle  Ages;  the  Revolution 
had  only  a  "  Merveilleuse." 

It  was  because  Emilie  had  a  sweet  and  noble  nature  that 
when  she  came  to  know  her  mother-in-law  better  she  not 
only  found  excuses  for  her  conduct  but  defended  her  against 
the  forgetfulness  and  ingratitude  of  the  Faubourg  St.  Ger- 
main. 


INTRODUCTION  19 


She  quotes  a  reply  of  Therezia's  which  is  not  without 
greatness.  Some  one  threw  the  name  of  Tallien  at  her  as 
an  insult.  "  It  is  true,  I  was  Mme.  Tallien,"  she  answered, 
"and  under  that  name  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  save  your 
life." 

Already  at  Bordeaux,  when  they  began  to  throw  the  nobles 
into  prison  and  send  them  to  the  guillotine,  Citizeness  The- 
rezia  Cabarrus,  born  Fontenay,  formerly  a  marchioness, 
raised  to  be  Goddess  of  Reason,  did  not  spare  herself,  but 
plotted  to  save  them,  good  Spaniard  and  aristocrat  as  she 
was  at  bottom.  She  made  use  of  the  weapons  that  the 
Revolution  could  only  deprive  her  of  with  life,  and  calmly 
staked  her  youth  and  beauty  against  death. 

All  but  one  forgot  the  service  rendered,  but  he  never  told 
his  name.  .  .  .  One  day  when  she  was  very  near  her  end, 
she  was  all  alone  in  the  gloomy  Chateau  de  Chimay  (St. 
Simon  called  Chimay  "Chimera,"  and  that  was  true  as  far 
as  she  was  concerned),  a  poor  old  woman,  deserted  by  a 
husband  too  young  for  her,  and  by  neglectful  children.  A 
sealed  packet  was  brought  to  her  containing  a  letter,  which 
she  could  still  open  with  her  feeble  fingers.  The  packet 
contained  what  used  to  be  called  a  "marquise"  ring,  in  the 
style  of  the  eighteenth  century,  a  diamond  set  with  emer- 
alds. This  unexpected  gift  was  accompanied  by  a  letter 
from  a  man  who  desired  to  remain  unknown.  Possibly  he 
was  afraid  that  his  present  would  not  be  accepted,  and  that 
the  Princess  de  Chimay  would  reject  this  proof  of  gratitude, 
which,  in  fact,  was  meant  for  Tallien's  mistress. 


20  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

His  letter  recalled  the  service  she  had  rendered  him  at 
Bordeaux,  and  his  story  differed  from  others  in  one  detail 
only-^he  had  not  forgotten  her.  He  was  on  board  a  ship 
loaded  with  emigrants,  which  was  on  the  point  of  sailing, 
when  the  captain  received  orders  to  remain  in  port.  All 
knew  what  this  meant — it  was  the  death-sentence  of  every 
one  of  the  passengers. 

Therezia  was  able  to  obtain  the  recall  of  this  order;  the 
vessel  set  sail  before  dawn,  and  the  emigrant  and  his  family 
reached  America  in  safety.  He  lived  and  worked  there  in 
peace  and  happiness,  all  through  the  Revolution,  the  Direc- 
tory, the  Consulate,  and  the  Empire;  till  having  realized  a 
comfortable  fortune  he  returned  to  France,  where  his  first 
thought  on  landing  was  for  his  benefactress. 

He  was  just  in  time:  Therezia  was  near  her  end,  and  per- 
haps without  this  emerald  ring  she  would  have  died  without 
a  shadow  of  hope,  for  how  could  she  believe  in  the  goodness 
of  God  who  made  men  in  his  own  image,  when  she  had  found 
them  so  unkind  ? 

This  ring,  bestowed  by  an  unknown  hand,  inherited  from 
the  Princess  de  Chimay,  has  passed  through  three  hands, 
and  I  am  now  the  wearer.  When  she  gave  it  to  me,  my 
mother-in-law  called  it  Mme.  Tallien's  ring,  and  that  is  the 
name  I  have  for  it  in  my  own  mind. 

The  Princess  Bibesco  was  the  granddaughter  of  Napoleon 
through  her  mother,  and  of  Mme.  Tallien  through  her  father, 
and  if  she  prized  this  descent  more  than  all  her  titles,  and 
valued  it  above  her  Walloon  countship,  or  the  three  grandees 


INTRODUCTION  21 


of  Spain,  it  was  because  she  had  the  true  historic  sense  and 
a  love  for  the  picturesque. 

As  I  read  the  Memoirs  of  the  little  Emilie,  who  became 
Princess  de  Chimay,  I  notice  that  she  made  her  mother-in- 
law  tell  her  stories,  just  as  mine  used  to  do  for  me.  "  In  the 
morning,"  she  writes,  "while  Joseph*  was  practising  with 
his  father,  I  would  beg  my  mother-in-law  to  let  me  hear 
some  of  her  old  stories.  She  told  them  so  well,  mingling  the 
true  and  the  false  artistically,  in  such  a  way  as  to  keep  up 
the  interest.  .  .  ." 

Who  can  disentangle  the  truth  in  a  grandmother's  tales? 
How  can  a  woman  know  what  happened  before  she  existed, 
since  she  can  scarcely  glance  into  her  own  heart,  before  the 
image  becomes  blurred?  What  Emilie  loved  to  dwell  on 
were  those  thrilling  shades  of  old  emotions,  revived  by  a 
word.  She  cared  not  to  know  if  time  and  distance  trans- 
formed or  colored  these  vague  memories. 

The  echoes  of  life  may  deceive,  but  they  charm  us,  and  we 
listen  with  delight,  while  those  who  close  their  ears  pass  into 
death  having  heard  nothing. 

As  long  as  my  husband's  mother  was  there  to  speak  to  me 
I  continued  to  question  her,  but  Princess  Georges  Bibesco 
was  on  the  verge  of  old  age  at  the  time  of  my  marriage.  Her 
only  son  was  her  last  child,  and  her  eldest  daughter  was  of 
the  same  age  as  my  mother.    Sometimes  the  Princess  would 

*  Prince  Joseph  de  Chimay,  son  of  Therezia  Cabarrus,  and  second 
husband  of  Emilie  de  Pellapra. 


22  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

say  to  me:  "We  have  not  long  to  see  each  other,  my  daugh- 
ter, so  let  us  take  a  good  look  now." 

I  reawakened,  as  1  have  said,  the  echo  of  the  words  that 
she,  herself,  had  gathered  from  the  lips  of  her  grandmother, 
Mme.  de  Pellapra,  lips  dear  and  precious  to  me,  because 
they  had  touched  those  of  Napoleon  and  had  smiled  on  him. 

From  him  to  us  the  echo  had  only  to  pass  through  two 
hearts,  and  after  a  century  we  can  still  feel  the  vibration; 
Chateaubriand's  prediction  is  now  accomplished.  "Bona- 
parte exercised  so  absolute  a  sway  that,  after  submitting  to 
his  personal  despotism,  we  are  now  under  the  yoke  of  his 
memory.  This  last  rule  dominates  us  more  than  the  first, 
for  though  Napoleon  was  resisted  while  he  was  on  the  throne, 
there  is  now  universal  acceptance  of  the  chains  with  which 
his  death  has  bound  us.  He  is  an  obstacle  to  all  future 
events.  How  can  any  armed  power  establish  itself  after 
him?  In  surpassing  all  military  glory,  has  he  not  destroyed 
it?  .  .  .  He  will  be  the  last  of  the  great  individual  exist- 
ences." 

The  tomb  of  an  unknown  soldier  under  the  Arc-de- 
Triomphe  confirms  this  verdict. 

When  1  questioned  my  mother-in-law  about  her  childhood 
and  youth,  which  were  entirely  passed  near  Mme.  de  Pella- 
pra, what  I  particularly  sought  were  new  lights  on  her  grand- 
mother's recollections  of  Napoleon;  but,  unfortunately,  pro- 
priety threw  a  veil  over  the  vision. 

Under  Charles  X  a  wave  of  austerity  passed  over  French 
society.    The  King  was  melancholy  and  devout,  owing  to 


INTRODUCTION  23 


the  influence  of  Mme.  de  Polastrion.  On  her  death-bed  she, 
in  despair  at  the  thought  of  quitting  this  world  and  the 
Comte  d'Artois,  made  him  swear  that  henceforward  he  would 
belong  only  to  God,  that  he  would  do  penance  for  her  and 
for  himself.  Then,  secure  in  the  thought  that  no  other 
woman  could  now  supplant  her,  she  died  consoled,  leaving 
him  in  the  arms  of  his  religion. 

The  reign  of  the  Duchesse  de  Berry  would,  no  doubt,  have 
brought  about  some  changes,  but  with  Marie  Amelie  family 
life  and  strict  morals  resumed  their  sway  and  virtue  came 
into  fashion. 

At  the  Hotel  de  Chimay,  with  Mme.  Tallien  for  a  mother, 

no  one  joked  on  a  question  of  morals;  it  was  too  much  like 

talking  of  a  rope,  .  .  .  etc.     But  Mme.  de  Pellapra  liked  to 

make  a  jest  of  serious  things;  her  disposition  was  gay,  even 

giddy.    For  example  she  made  her  grandchildren  learn  the 

following  silly  couplet : 

"Virtue  is  great,  but  be  it  understood 
Naught  is  so  bad  as  to  be  over-good." 

This  was  her  way  of  protesting  against  the  prudish,  over- 
serious  atmosphere  which  prevailed  in  the  hotel  on  the  Quai 
Malaquais. 

I  understood  well  enough,  from  what  my  mother-in-law 
said,  that  when  Mme.  de  Pellapra  began  to  talk  about  her 
past,  her  daughter  and  son-in-law  hastened  to  turn  the  con- 
versation. .  .  .  But  when  one  has  a  Napoleon  to  look  back 
upon,  especially  a  Frenchwoman  out  of  Beranger's  songs, 
Que  is  sure  to  talk  about  it  in  the  end-    When  Mme.  de 


24  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

Pellapra  was  alone  with  her  grandchildren,  away  from  "  those 
glum  grown-ups"  who  wanted  her  to  be  silent  about  her 
heart-history,  she  was  apt  to  let  that  heart  overflow. 

The  Princesse  Bibesco  told  me  that  when  her  mother  went 
to  a  ball  the  grandmother  was  left  with  her  and  her  brother 
Henry,*  and  such  stories  as  she  told,  and  what  fun  they 
all  had  over  them !  Unfortunately,  these  stories  were  not 
all  fit  for  my  ears,  so  they  were  not  repeated  to  me.  All  I 
ever  heard  were  the  words  with  which  the  stories  generally 
ended,  accompanied  by  a  little  tap  on  young  de  Brigode's 
cheek:  "Henry  is  not  good-looking,  but  his  leg  is  like  the 
Emperor's." 

In  spite  of  discouragements  I  persisted  in  my  questions: 
"What  color  were  Napoleon's  eyes?"  "Blue,"  said  my 
mother-in-law,  who  was  sure  of  this,  because  her  own  were 
blue. 

"Was  he  really  so  short,  or  only  about  the  middle  height?" 
"  Below  the  average.  My  mother  was  also  very  small,  but 
her  head  was  beautifully  shaped,  she  had  tiny  feet,  and  her 
hands  were  perfect.  My  son  is  not  tall,  either;  the  giants 
in  our  family  come  from  the  Chimay  side.  .  .  ." 

The  Emperor  was  as  dainty  as  a  woman,  particularly  in 
his  scrupulous  cleanliness;  he  practised  in  the  utmost  detail 
all  the  rites  of  the  toilet,  and  liked  the  same  refinements  in 
others.  In  the  care  which  my  mother-in-law  took  of  her 
person  I  could  trace  the  influence  of  Mme.  de  Pellapra,  who 
taught  her  these  observances  from  a  child. 

♦Henry,  Comte  de  Brlgode,  half-brother  of  Princess  Bibesco. 


MADAME  DE  PELLAPRA.  N£E  LEROY 


INTRODUCTION  25 


I  let  nothing  slip  in  my  investigations  as  to  the  Emperor, 
and  being  careful  to  examine  all  the  things  which  had  come 
down  to  us  from  him,  I  was  struck  by  the  intimate  quality 
in  all  his  love  gifts,  as  the  Persian  poets,  and  especially 
Saadi,  in  his  tales,  made  objects  around  them  speak. 

Napoleon  was  not  the  man  to  throw  his  handkerchief.  In 
his  relations  with  women  he  was  abrupt  sometimes,  but 
never  a  coxcomb,  and  the  languors  of  the  harem  were  not 
for  him.  We  had  a  handkerchief  of  his,  a  big  snuff-taker's 
handkerchief,  of  such  fine  lawn  that  it  might  have  gone  into 
a  nutshell,  like  the  linen  woven  by  Finette  or  the  Clever 
Princess.  It  had  little  blue  stars  around  the  hem,  and  in 
one  of  the  corners  was  the  crowned  "N"  in  a  laurel  wreath. 

We  had  also  his  smelling-bottle,  very  small,  of  cut  crystal, 
the  silver-gilt  top  engraved  with  the  warlike  coat  of  arms  he 
had  chosen.  The  smelling-salts  are  there  yet,  but  with  all 
the  virtue  and  aroma  gone. 

One  wonders  if  this  handkerchief  and  the  salts  were  em- 
ployed to  recover  Josephine  from  one  of  her  pretended 
swoons,  before  they  came  into  the  hands  of  Mme.  de  Pella- 
pra?  Did  he  leave  them  with  her  at  some  parting,  that  she 
might  revive  and  dry  her  tears?  Or  perhaps,  just  out  of 
mischief,  she  may  have  felt  in  his  pockets,  found  and  kept 
these  things  ?  I  am  inclined  to  believe  the  latter,  from  her 
familiarity  with  the  god,  of  which  her  daughter,  who  knew 
her  well,  gives  an  example  when  she  writes:  "Cockade  .  .  . 
taken  from  the  Emperor's  hat  by  my  grandmother."  Yes, 
I  believe  that  she  simply  took  and  kept  them. 


26  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

I  have  heard  them  speak,  also,  of  a  pair  of  white-silk 
stockings,  which  doubtless  set  off  the  celebrated  leg,  in- 
herited by  Henry. 

As  I  write,  these  things  which  speak  of  Napoleon  are  be- 
fore me.  They  were  hidden  for  long  years  in  drawers  or 
secret  chests  by  Mme.  de  Pellapra,  guarded  by  her  from  the 
angry  eyes  of  her  dreaded  husband.  Later  they  were  kept 
out  of  sight  on  account  of  her  son-in-law,  who  was  very  par- 
ticular on  a  question  of  propriety.  In  early  life  he  had  been 
attached  to  the  Dutch  Legation,  then  had  represented  the 
interests  of  a  prince,  son-in-law  of  Marie  Amelie,  then  was 
governor  of  Luxembourg,  and  at  last  envoy  from  the  King 
of  the  Belgians  to  His  Holiness — a  great  personage,  in  short ! 

From  time  to  time,  when  she  thought  herself  safe,  she 
would  take  these  souvenirs  from  their  hiding-place  and  look 
at  them — proofs  of  love  from  him  who  was  the  master  of 
Popes  and  Kings,  whose  name  she  dared  not  breathe,  but 
which  she  knew  was  echoed  throughout  the  world. 

Sometimes  she  would  show  her  treasures  to  her  daughter 
or  her  grandchildren,  with  her  proud,  mocking  smile,  for  it 
must  be  frankly  confessed  that  she  was  a  woman  who  had 
no  regrets. 

Silent  witnesses,  these  things  have  come  down  to  our  day, 
but  the  thought  of  the  dangers  that  have  threatened  their 
existence  suggested  the  idea  of  fixing  their  image  on  this 
page;  they  are  perishable,  but  not  more  so  than  we  our- 
selves. In  order  to  escape  the  German  investigations  they 
were  sent  from  Bucharest  to  Russia,  and  came  near  being 


INTRODUCTION  27 


lost  there.  Little  Emilie's  manuscript  escaped  by  miracle 
when,  in  191 7,  they  picked  the  lock  of  the  old  lacquered 
cabinet  in  which  it  was  kept. 

I  have  been  led  to  speak  more  fully  of  Mme.  de  Pellapra 
than  of  her  daughter  in  these  pages,  intended  to  serve  as  an 
introduction  to  the  Memoirs  of  the  Princess  de  Chimay;  but 
it  is  because  Emilie  will  now  speak  for  herself,  and  also  the 
mother  and  daughter  should  not  be  parted,  bound,  as  they 
were,  together,  companions  even  to  the  grave. 

After  the  grief  and  disappointments  which  darkened  the 
end  of  her  life,  Mme.  de  Chimay  does  not  rest  in  Belgium 
near  her  husband  and  her  sons,  but  lies  beside  her  mother  at 
Menars,  in  the  little  chapel  of  a  country  churchyard,  en- 
closed by  a  hedge  of  laurel. 

On  the  1 6th  of  April,  1821,  Napoleon  bequeathed  his  body 
to  France;  his  daughter's  remains  were  returned  to  French 
soil  the  22d  of  May,  1871. 

One  cross  rises  above  the  twin  stones  under  which  the 
mother  and  daughter  lie  side  by  side.  I  went  one  morning 
and  placed  two  branches  of  laurel  there,  like  those  which 
were  spread  on  the  grave  at  St.  Helena. 

Princess  Bibesco. 
Paris,  March  11th,  1921. 


MEMOIRS 

OF 

EMILIE  DE  PELLAPRA 

PRINCESS  DE  CHIMAY 

1849 


MEMOIRS 

I  WISH  to  write  the  story  of  my  life,  as  a  way  of  escape 
from  the  bitterness  of  my  thoughts,  and  to  occupy  my 
troubled  mind. 

I  ought  to  call  it  the  story  of  me,  since  it  is  for  myself 
alone  that  I  wish  to  look  back  on  what  I  was,  on  what  I  am ! 

As  my  memory  dwells  on  the  deep  suffering  which  actually 
marred  my  early  youth,  my  aim  above  all  is  to  persuade  my- 
self that  complaint  is  forbidden  me,  and  since  God  has  sent 
compensations  for  my  unforgetable  sorrows,  I  ought  rather 
to  bless  than  accuse  him. 

I  have  suffered,  indeed,  but  the  faculty  for  suffering  does 
not  grow  less;  for  after  receiving  a  dagger  thrust,  one  can 
still  feel  the  prick  of  a  pin.  There  are  many  diseases  which 
may  attack  each  one  of  our  organs,  as  there  are  a  thousand 
roads  that  lead  to  death;  so  the  soul  also  has  pains  which 
affect  it,  and  of  which,  less  fortunate  than  the  body,  it  can 
never  be  completely  cured!  .  .  .  Each  wound  leaves  its 
scar,  a  blow  which  divides  you  forever  from  your  loved  ones, 
or  one  dealt  often  by  those  on  whom  you  had  staked  the  hap- 
piness of  your  life.  They  all  combine,  and  the  fresh  stroke 
may  fall  on  a  half-healed  wound,  or  on  the  scar  that  time 
has  not  effaced. 

I  can  never  think  of  the  angel  that  I  have  lost,*  nor  of  the 
♦  Femand  de  Brigode. 
31 


32  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

death  of  his  father*  without  a  sinking  of  the  heart,  and  the 
memory  of  what  I  felt  in  the  terrible  moments  of  separation 
is  ever  present  and  full  of  pain. 

I  used  to  cry  to  myself  when  I  thought  of  them,  "Oh,  my 
God,  anything  but  that !"  and  now  I  am  ashamed  to  con- 
fess it,  but  I  no  longer  have  courage  to  bear  everything.  .  .  , 

When  I  turn  to  the  past,  my  first  memories  are  of  my 
dear  grandmother,  t  who  took  such  good  care  of  me.  As  in 
a  dream  I  can  see  the  room  in  which  I  slept  by  her  side,  in 
a  deep  alcove — the  balcony  where  I  used  to  water  the  nas- 
turtiums, the  old  woman  who  danced  sarabandes  to  amuse 
me,  and  another  younger  maid,  who  came  to  help  me  dress. 

I  can  still  seem  to  see  our  walks  on  a  Sunday,  our  visits 
to  my  aunts,  and  the  disagreeable  impression  the  dirt  in  the 
house  made  on  me.  Above  all,  I  remember  distinctly — so 
deeply  ingrained  is  vanity  in  our  sex — ^that  when  I  was  only 
three  years  old  I  understood  perfectly  when  I  was  admired 
for  my  beauty,  and  was  flattered  by  this,  which  was  the 
usual  accompaniment  of  our  walks. 

The  days  of  which  I  speak  are,  alas,  now  far  removed,  and 
my  recollections  are  naturally  somewhat  vague,  but  I  re- 
member clearly  my  mother's  t  return,  her  sweet,  attractive 
face  glowing  with  all  the  charms  of  youth. 

I  am  struck  by  the  fact  that  where  my  father  §  is  con- 
cerned my  memory  fails  me  entirely.    Neither  his  face  nor 

*  Le  Comte  de  Brlgode,  first  husband  of  EmlUe. 

t  Madame  Leroy. 

X  Madame  de  Pellapra,  n6e  Leroy. 

§  M.  de  Pellapra,  whom  she  never  saw  till  she  was  four  years  old. 


MEMOIRS  -  33 


his  figure  remain  in  my  mind;  he  reappears  in  my  hfe  when 
we  went  to  Normandy,  and  then  I  was  afraid  of  his  scoldings. 

I  do  not  know  how  long  my  father  and  mother  re- 
mained at  Lyons,  but  I  remember  the  packing  of  some 
pieces  of  furniture,  that  my  grandmother  was  unhappy  at 
our  separation,  and  that  for  the  first  time  I  travelled  with 
my  parents. 

How  my  poor  grandmother  must  have  suffered  when  the 
child  was  taken  from  her  whom  she  had  brought  up  with  so 
much  care !  How  empty  her  life  must  have  been,  and  I  can 
never  sufficiently  regret  that  I  was  unable  to  repay  to  her 
old  age  all  that  she  had  done  for  my  babyhood. 

We  passed  through  Paris,  but  I  remember  nothing  of  it, 
and  I  see  myself  now  transplanted  to  Normandy.  I  have 
seen  the  house  and  the  little  garden  since;  they  then  seemed 
to  me  very  large  and  handsome.  There  were  my  birds  and 
rabbits  that  I  was  fond  of,  and  I  can  feel  still  the  weight  of 
my  father's  anger,  whom  I  feared.  It  was  from  him,  or 
rather  from  my  dread  of  him,  that  I  learned  to  put  a  con- 
straint on  myself,  to  hide  and  tell  fibs.  Between  my  moth- 
er's weakness  and  my  father's  tempers  I  got  into  the  same 
habits  as  the  servants;  and  if  I  have  turned  out  fairly  well 
it  is  owing  to  my  good  natural  disposition.  Driven  to  seek 
some  refuge,  I  did  as  Mme.  de  Girardin  so  beautifully  says: 

"  L'effrol  fait  &  Tenfant  devlner  la  prlire." 

I  prayed  to  God,  at  first  like  the  poor  little  child  that  I 
was;  I  prayed  that  my  reading-teacher  should  not  come; 


34  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

for  my  childish  wishes  and  fancies;  and  then  I  begged  my 
patron  saint  to  save  me  from  my  father's  anger,  for  I  feared 
and  did  not  love  him. 

In  spite  of  the  entire  want  of  religion  in  which  I  was 
brought  up,  I  have  prayed  ever  since.  My  father  was  of 
that  school  of  atheism  which  sprung  up  before  the  Revolu- 
tion, and  the  lack  of  religious  education  in  my  mother  de- 
prived me  of  all  pious  examples;  but  my  heart  was  full  of 
feeling  that  no  one  understood.  I  sought  comfort  and  help 
in  prayer;  and  so  I  learned  to  offer  all  my  sufferings  to  God, 
and  to  thank  his  Providence  for  every  blessing. 

All  my  enjoyments  came  from  the  family  of  the  secretary 
to  the  receiver-general,  M.  Reveroy.  Their  daughter  was 
older  than  I  was,  and  painfully  deformed,  but  she  was  always 
ready  to  play  with  me.  She  did  not  live  long,  as  I  have 
since  known,  but  how  many  who  were  happier  then  have 
gone  to  join  her  without  leaving  behind  them  one  tender 
recollection ! 

One  of  my  troubles  was  that  I  was  now  sent  to  school  as  a 
day-boarder,  and  though  I  went  with  a  little  friend,  Mme.  de 
Lebarond'heves'  daughter,  I  could  never  get  used  to  it.  I 
was  at  the  same  time  lazy,  affectionate,  and  fond  of  the 
house,  and  this  catlike  feeling  is  the  only  one  to  which  1  have 
always  been  constant.  I  was  also  much  attached  to  my 
mother,  and  was  vexed  that  1  should  be  sent  out  of  her  way. 
Taken  together  these  two  things  made  my  school  hateful  to 
me. 

The  pangs  which  I  endured  on  my  way  there  amounted  to 


MEMOIRS  35 


real  suffering,  and  I  must  say  in  this  connection,  with  my 
experience  of  childhood,  that  the  expression  "children's 
troubles,"  as  applied  to  small  annoyances,  is  most  inappro- 
priate. One  can  suffer  at  an  early  age  quite  as  keenly  as  in 
later  life. 

Sometimes  in  my  childhood  I  was  so  desperately  unhappy, 
that  1  seriously  thought  of  throwing  myself  out  of  the  win- 
dow. 1  was  distressed  by  something,  trifling,  perhaps,  in 
the  eyes  of  grown  persons,  but  which  appeared  to  me  then 
as  painful  as  anything  that  I  had  to  bear  in  after  years. 

Our  reasoning  powers  are  formed  by  comparisons  which 
we  can  only  make  after  long  experience;  therefore,  children, 
who  have  not  been  able  to  reach  either  the  one  or  the  other, 
are  as  keenly  sensitive  as  their  elders,  and  lack  the  power 
to  control  their  impressions. 

A  serious  illness,  scarlet  fever,  I  think,  caused  me  to  leave 
the  school  which  made  me  so  miserable.  Nursed  and  petted 
by  my  mother,  and  quite  unaware  of  my  danger,  I  remember 
that  1  was  perfectly  satisfied  with  this  state  of  things,  and 
pleased  with  the  beautiful  figures  that  were  cut  out  for  me 
by  kind  Mme.  Mechin,  whose  husband  was  prefect  of  Cal- 
vados.    I  have  always  thought  of  her  with  gratitude. 

About  this  time,  when  I  was  little  more  than  four  years 
old,  1  began  to  hear  people  talk  of  the  approaching  visit  of 
the  Empress  Marie  Louise.  She  was  to  pass  through  Caen, 
on  her  way  to  the  opening  of  the  port  at  Cherbourg. 

Every  one  about  me  was  making  preparations  for  the  re- 
ception in  which  1  was  to  take  part.    There  were  four  lines 


36  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

of  verse  to  be  learned,  which  I  did  readily  enough  when  I  saw 
the  costume  intended  for  me  to  wear ! 

It  was  to  be  a  village  festival  in  a  garden;  all  the  smartest 
ladies  were  dressed  as  Cauchoises,  and  the  men  as  farmers, 
singing  an  appropriate  chorus,  which  I  remember  perfectly 
well.  The  stage  peasants  brought  baskets  of  fruit  to  deco- 
rate the  flight  of  steps  where  the  Empress  stood  with  her 
court.  Norman  horse-dealers  presented  a  magnificent  horse, 
shod  with  silver,  but  he  did  not  seem  to  relish  greatly  the 
lights  and  noises  around  him.  There  was  also  a  white  bull 
with  gilded  horns,  on  which  it  was  first  intended  that  I 
should  make  my  entrance,  dressed  as  the  Genius  of  Nor- 
mandy, but  as  my  mother  refused  to  trust  me,  like  the  nymph 
Europa,  to  this  animal,  it  was  decided  that  the  Department 
could  dispense  with  its  Genius,  and  they  dressed  me  in  a  lit- 
tle Cauchoise  costume,  which,  I  am  told,  became  me  to  ad- 
miration. I  was  carried  in  safely  on  a  sort  of  litter  wreathed 
with  flowers,  between  two  little  gilded  barrels.  I  held  a  cup 
in  each  hand,  filled,  one  with  milk,  the  other  with  cider,  and 
when  I  reached  the  foot  of  the  throne,  without  the  slightest 
embarrassment  I  recited  these  verses,  which  were  well  enough 
received  on  account  of  my  pretty  face: 

"  Les  tr&ors  de  Pomone,  un  savoureux  laitage, 
Sont  des  champs  neustriens  les  tr6sors  les  plus  doux. 
Reine,  ce  tribut  simple  est  peu  digne  de  vous, 
Mais  il  est  tendre  mere,  offert  par  le  jeune  age." 

Thereupon  I  made  a  beautiful  courtesy,  but  they  could  not 
carry  me  off,  as  the  Empress  commanded  my  presence.    A 


MEMOIRS  37 


chamberlain  came  for  me,  and  I  remember  that  he  wanted 
me  to  kneel  when  we  came  near  the  Empress,  but  I  refused, 
telling  him  I  had  said  my  prayers  that  morning.  With  the 
exception  of  this  slight  rebellion  I  behaved  very  well,  and 
the  Empress  gave  me  a  beautiful  watch  with  her  monogram, 
which  I  have  still,  and  which  has  worn  much  better  than  I 
have. 

I  was  too  young  to  remember  the  persons  and  things 
around  me,  and  so  I  cannot  speak  intelligently  of  events 
which  took  place.  In  1813  I  heard  something  said  of  an 
enemy  who  was  advancing,  and  scared  by  this  word,  I  pic- 
tured to  myself  a  rider  with  big  mustaches,  galloping  across 
country;  the  Cossacks  that  I  saw  later  were  not  unlike  this 
bogey.  My  father  had  bought  a  garden,  and  at  this  time 
he  talked  of  burying  money  there;  as  all  this  was  said  before 
me,  I  naturally  repeated  it,  which  led  to  a  terrible  scene  with 
my  father,  but  he  would  have  done  better  to  hide  it  from  me. 

At  last  the  strangers  arrived  whom  we  had  drawn  in  such 
dark  colors,  and  the  pretty  Cauchoises  who  had  sung  of  their 
devotion  to  the  Empress  and  her  august  spouse  made  no 
objection  to  a  waltz  with  the  Russian  staff-officers,  and  I 
saw  their  outlandish  musicians  playing  in  the  same  place 
where  had  stood  the  orchestra  which  greeted  Marie  Louise. 

Since  then  I  have  seen  many  similar  things,  which  have 
made  this,  my  first  glimpse  of  the  world's  stage,  clearer  to 
me. 

I  went  in  an  open  carriage  with  my  mother  to  meet  the 
Due  de  Berry  on  his  arrival  at  Caen. 


38  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

"C'^tait  la  m^me  ffite  et  r6cho  de  ces  lieux, 
Retentissait  encore  des  mfimes  cris  joyeux!" 

These  verses  have  been  written  since,  but  they  occur  to 
me  now  and  I  quote  them  to  express  the  fact  that  the  same 
people  who  cried  "Vive  I'lmperatrice!"  made  themselves 
hoarse  shouting  "Vive  le  Due  de  Berry!";  that  the  trans- 
ports of  loyalty  were  the  same;  only  I  was  surprised  to  see, 
not  a  line  of  brilliant  equipages  filled  with  charming  young 
women,  but  a  dusty  old  barouche,  out  of  which  stepped  an 
ugly,  stout,  heavy,  common-looking  person,  not  the  least 
like  my  idea  of  a  prince,  so  vulgar  and  ordinary  was  his 
appearance. 

The  day  after  this  untriumphal  entry  my  nurse  took  me 
to  the  gardens  of  the  Prefecture,  where  I  saw  all  the  people 
go  by  who  had  been  lunching  with  the  Royal  Highness  who 
had  come  from  England  in  the  train  of  the  Russians.  I 
went  and  stood  by  my  mother,  and  the  Due  de  Berry  came 
and  was  very  polite  to  her.  He  noticed  me  and  said  how 
pretty  I  was,  but  thinking  to  compliment  my  mother  he 
added:  "  But  she  will  never  be  as  beautiful  as  madame !" 

I  long  ago  forgave  the  poor  duke  for  his  awkward  predic- 
tion, which  did  not  even  gratify  my  mother. 

My  memory  is  less  clear  as  to  the  time  that  followed,  and 
probably  our  journey  back  to  Lyons  did  not  interest  me  very 
much,  for  it  left  no  impression  on  my  mind. 

I  find  myself  again  at  Lyons,  at  my  dear  grandmother's: 
the  same  places,  the  same  balcony  where  1  used  to  look  down 


MEMOIRS  39 


on  the  bridges  and  the  Brotteaux.  There  was  a  great  deal 
of  active  work  going  on  there,  which  amused  me  very  much. 
I  was  told  that  they  were  fortifying  this  approach  to  the 
town  against  the  usurper !  Before  I  went  to  bed  I  had  seen 
them  bringing  great  beams,  cannon,  and  ammunition,  but 
in  the  morning  when  I  heard  shouts  and  ran  to  look  at  what 
had  seemed  so  formidable  the  night  before,  I  was  surprised 
to  see  nothing  but  trophies  and  wreaths  of  flowers!  The 
barricades  were  transformed  into  triumphal  arches.  The 
people  from  all  the  country  round  were  pouring  in  to  wel- 
come their  Emperor,  and  every  moment  whole  regiments 
passed,  the  Eagle  once  more  at  their  head,  hastening  to  join 
the  train  of  their  idol,  who  still  from  beyond  the  grave  can 
thrill  the  heart  of  every  Frenchman ! 

Child  as  I  was,  the  memory  of  the  enthusiasm,  the  life,  and 
passion  that  filled  the  whole  nation  made  so  deep  an  impres- 
sion that  I  have  seen  nothing  since  to  equal  it;  all  other 
popular  demonstrations  were  tame  and  colorless  in  compari- 
son. 

Historical  narrative  can  have  no  place  here;  I  must  only 
speak  of  what  I  saw,  and  at  four  years  old  my  eyes  shut  too 
early  and  looked  at  things  from  too  low  a  level  to  supply 
interesting  subjects  for  my  pen. 

Almost  immediately  afterward  we  returned  to  Paris, 
where  the  only  thing  I  remember  during  this  visit  was  a 
grand  review  at  the  Carrousel,  which  I  saw  from  a  window 
of  the  Palace.  1  have  learned  since  that  it  was  the  famous 
review  of  the  Federations,  but  all  I  saw  then  was  a  vast  space 


40  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

filled  with  troops,  lines  of  ordered  ranks,  a  rider  galloping  on 
a  white  horse,  and  the  long  roar  of  acclamations  that  met 
and  followed  his  passage,  the  living  fascination  which  he 
aroused. 
Thus  I  saw  and  shall  always  remember  Napoleon ! 

After  this  episode  I  seem  to  have  had  a  solitary,  rather 
unhappy  life.  We  lived  in  the  Hotel  des  Colonies,  where 
my  only  recreation  was  to  play  in  a  dull  garden.  Children 
often  feel  the  troubles  of  their  elders,  even  when  they  do 
not  comprehend  them,  but  are  none  the  less  affected. 

Too  young,  as  I  have  said,  to  understand  the  gravity  of 
passing  events,  as  I  only  relate  my  own  experiences,  I  could 
not  describe  the  Hundred  Days  without  borrowing  the  nar- 
ratives of  others  far  better  qualified  than  I  am.  I  felt  noth- 
ing when  I  heard  the  distant  mutter  of  the  cannon  of  Water- 
loo, and  looked  on  all  unconscious  at  the  storm  which  swept 
away  so  many  glorious  hopes;  but  I  saw  the  consternation  of 
those  around  me  and  understood  later  that  a  thunderbolt 
had  fallen  on  the  Emperor  and  France. 

The  trees  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne  were  cut  down  at  this 
time,  and  the  place  turned  into  an  enemies*  camp.  People 
went  to  Vincennes  and  looked  in  the  distance  at  the  chateau 
defended  by  General  Daumesnil,  and  perhaps  understood  as 
little  as  I  this  loyal  resistance  in  the  midst  of  so  much  treach- 
ery. I  heard  and  thought  often,  myself,  of  the  poor  little 
king,  of  my  own  age,*  who  refused  to  leave  the  chateau  where 
♦  The  King  of  Rome. 


MEMOIRS  41 


he  was  born,  when  so  many  others  deserted  it  before  and 
after  he  left.  What  became  of  his  golden  cradle  and  his 
white  rams  ?  My  childish  thoughts  were  full  of  little  things 
which  have  passed  into  history,  and  so  become  great,  like 
everything  that  had  to  do  with  the  epic  of  the  Hundred 
Days. 

Finally  came  our  enemies,  disguised  as  allies,  and  for  the 
first  time  I  saw  the  English,  those  people  who  always  lied 
except  when  they  took  the  tiger-cat  for  their  emblem.  False 
as  the  one,  fierce  as  the  other,  they  have  always  been  traitors, 
from  the  stake  of  Joan  of  Arc  to  the  rock  of  St.  Helena ! 

Shortly  after  this  complete  change  in  the  political  situa- 
tion we  moved  into  a  small  house  in  the  Rue  de  Joubert, 
where  there  were  a  great  many  visitors;  but  as  I  was  too  lit- 
tle to  be  allowed  in  the  drawing-room,  I  can  relate  nothing 
of  what  occurred  at  this  time. 

A  governess  was  needed  for  me,  and,  unfortunately  for  my 
education,  the  choice  fell  on  a  person  altogether  incapable  of 
educating  any  one.  Mme.  de  Presle  was  vulgar,  stupid,  and 
almost  totally  ignorant;  all  that  I  remember  about  her  was 
her  excessive  greediness,  which  made  her  ridiculous  to  those 
who  were  amused  by  it,  but  not  to  me.  She  ate  up  all  my 
candies,  and  objected  when  I  wanted  my  share.  I  cannot 
help  smiling  when  I  think  of  how  she  managed  to  pick  out 
the  most  toothsome  pieces  without  leaving  any  for  me.  If 
her  plate  was  already  full  at  dessert,  she  would  pile  sweet- 
meats all  around  the  edge,  and  reach  out  after  dishes  that 
were  not  offered  to  her,  or  from  which  other  people  helped 


42  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

themselves  too  liberally  to  suit  her.  These  manoeuvres 
made  every  one  laugh  except  my  father,  who  used  to  get 
very  angry  and  frown  in  the  most  fearful  manner,  but  the 
poor  woman  was  so  absorbed  that  she  never  noticed  this  in 
the  least. 

My  education  began  under  unfortunate  circumstances,  i 
did  have  a  good  writing-master,  and  acquired  a  beautiful 
hand,  but  as  for  my  French,  in  spite  of  all  the  pains  1  took 
in  later  years,  I  always  felt  the  effect  of  this  early  bad  teach- 
ing, which  1  could  never  overcome. 

I  had  a  taste  for  drawing,  but  I  was  forced  to  learn  the 
piano  and  was  an  unsatisfactory  pupil  of  a  poor  teacher;  I 
gained  nothing  from  these  lessons  but  vexation  and  igno- 
rance, but  on  looking  back  1  regret  my  detestation  of  them. 

Sometimes  I  came  to  table  or  into  the  drawing-room  and 
saw  some  of  the  friends  of  the  family,  especially  when  there 
was  a  big  dinner-party.  People  liked  to  make  me  talk,  and 
they  laughed  and  repeated  what  I  said,  for  I  was  quick- 
witted, and  had  an  answer  for  everything;  so  I  had  my 
friends,  whom  I  coaxed,  and  my  enemies,  on  whom  I  liked 
to  sharpen  my  tongue.  My  favorites  were  dear  M.  Kesner, 
who  made  me  laugh;  poor  Casimir  Housset,  a  bashful  ad- 
mirer, whom  my  mother  always  snubbed;  M.  de  Forbin, 
director  of  museums,  a  fine-looking,  distinguished  man;  and 
M.  de  Chauvelin,  a  deputy;  my  father  used  to  make  long 
financial  speeches  about  him,  which  I  copied  in  my  best 
handwriting,  but  never  read,  you  may  be  sure.  Then  there 
were  General  Clary;  M.  and  Mme.  Goupil;  M.  Ducos;  a  very 


MEMOIRS  43 


young  man,  M.  Coleau  Rothschild,  whom  we  called  the  little 
Jew;  the  Bassanos,  who  had  just  returned  to  France  after  a 
long  exile;  the  beautiful  Mme.  Gazzani;  General  de  Cubieres 
and  his  wife,  and  a  lot  of  others  whom  I  have  forgotten.  I 
had  no  amusements,  and  my  only  pleasure  was  to  walk  with 
my  dear  Denis.  It  is  high  time  to  speak  of  him  now,  though 
I  have  not  done  so  before,  for  he  is  chief  among  those  whom 
I  recall  with  affection.  Our  house  then  was  modest  enough, 
and  he  was  maitre  d'hotel,  but  he  dignified  his  humble  posi- 
tion by  his  unusual  integrity  and  the  devotion  and  love  he 
felt  for  us.  The  whole  of  my  father's  property  in  Normandy 
was  in  his  hands  when  the  Allies  came  in,  and  it  was  through 
his  single-mindedness  that  it  was  saved  and  restored  to  our 
family.  He  really  took  the  place  of  a  nurse  and  governess, 
so  great  was  his  affection  for  me,  and  he  was  my  protector 
when  Mme.  de  Presle  was  thoughtless  and  cross,  or  my 
father  in  one  of  his  furies.  .  .  .  My  great  and  only  joy  was 
to  get  leave  to  go  to  walk  with  him:  we  would  start  off  into 
the  country — Montmartre  was  country  then — and  we  would 
wander  about  in  the  beautiful  big  Tivoli  gardens,  now  all 
rough  and  stony.  There  I  was  happy,  free,  and  gay;  re- 
leased from  the  sort  of  exhausted  receiver,  where  I  was  shut 
in  without  air,  sun,  or  pleasure.  .  .  .  Dear  old  Denis !  I 
have  never  been  able  to  repay  all  that  you  did  for  me,  for 
your  old  age,  like  my  childhood,  was  crushed  by  the  same 
iron  hand  which  weighed  so  heavily  upon  us !  .  .  .  but  at 
least  your  daughter  is  happy!  .  .  .  That  daughter,  who 
was  always  very  dear  to  me,  was  expected  at  the  time  I 


44  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

write  of,  and  I  was  to  be  her  godmother.  I  was  very  proud 
of  my  godchild,  and  counted  all  her  little  caps;  when  I  was 
told  of  the  great  event  I  felt  as  if  I  were  a  mother  myself, 
and  laid  by  all  my  toys  for  my  infant ! 

The  great  day  of  the  christening  arrived,  and  kind  M.  Kes- 
ner  was  good  enough  to  be  godfather  with  me,  and  showed 
himself  as  generous  as  he  was  obliging.  They  made  believe 
to  lay  the  baby  in  my  arms,  and  for  a  brief  moment  I  held 
the  dear  little  thing  close  to  me.  .  .  .  She  grew  up  to  be 
my  great  friend;  thirty-five  years  of  affection  have  rewarded 
those  early  pledges  and  hopes. 

The  dastardly  assassination  of  the  Due  de  Berry  recalled 
him  to  my  mind  when  I  had  almost  forgotten  him;  the  circle 
in  which  my  parents  moved  was  anything  but  royalist,  and 
I  had  often  heard  jeers  at  the  king  and  his  family,  but  this 
terrible  event  and  misfortune  put  an  end  to  such  jokes,  and 
all  mourned  for  this  Frenchman  struck  down  by  his  country- 
man! 

Since  then,  alas,  we  have  seen  many  of  such  murderous 
assaults;  one  assassin  after  another  has  struck  at  the  throne, 
as  if  God  needed  helpers  to  raise  up  or  cast  down. 

About  this  time  my  grandmother  came  from  Lyons  with 
her  two  eldest  daughters,  to  make  us  a  visit.  She  went  home 
after  a  week  or  two,  but  left  my  aunts,  Mina  and  Virginie, 
with  my  mother.  They  unfortunately  contracted  a  fever, 
and  I  was  separated  from  the  family  for  fear  of  contagion. 

We  lived,  as  I  have  said,  in  the  Rue  Joubert,  near  the 
parish  of  St.  Louis.    The  view  from  my  second-story  win- 


MEMOIRS  45 


dow  could  scarcely  be  called  entertaining,  but  my  favorite 
diversion  was  to  watch  the  de  Riviere  family,  who  lived 
opposite,  when  they  came  to  dinner.  Their  house  was  a  lit- 
tle lower  than  ours,  so  that  I  could  look  down  into  their  par- 
lor and  see  the  children  gathered  round  their  old  grand- 
father, and  their  grandmother,  who  was  blind.  I  knew  the 
children,  who  were  of  my  own  age,  and  I  liked  to  make 
friendly  signals  to  them,  for  I  was  all  alone  and  had  only  my 
birds  to  keep  me  company.  When  they  had  gone  to  sleep 
my  sole  refuge  from  boredom  was  to  read. 

This  time  was  sad  enough  and  was  made  worse  by  my 
father,  who  grew  more  and  more  sharp  and  irritable  toward 
me.  I  did  not  then  realize  this  daily  torment,  which  I  shared 
with  every  one  about  me,  but  which  was  really  unbearable. 
Being  then  ignorant  of  what  has  since  been  revealed  to  me, 
I  saw  without  understanding  the  terror  that  followed  my 
father's  footsteps.  The  dreary  atmosphere  in  which  we 
lived  was  stifling;  everything  was  wrong,  every  one  to  blame; 
it  was  useless  to  try  and  alter  what  had  displeased  him;  an 
outburst  of  anger  would  soon  show  the  mistake. 

He  often  struck  me,  and  his  words  hurt  worse  than  his 
blows,  but  though  I  speak  here  of  all  the  suffering  he  caused 
me  and  my  mother,  I  must  add  that  what  dwells  most  in  my 
mind  is  that  I  forgave  him  everything.  Yes,  when  he  lay 
dying  I  could  cry  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart:  may  God 
pardon  him  as  I  do ! 

At  this  time  Louis  XVI 1 1  condemned  two  young  men  to 
be  shot  as  conspirators,  and  their  extreme  youth  made  the 


46  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

sentence  odious,  and  added  to  the  hatred  already  felt  for  this 
oppressive  reign.  There  was  no  more  joking,  but  every  one 
had  a  horror  of  this  bloody-minded  king,  and  when  General 
Labedoyere  was  put  to  death,  the  following  couplet  was  found 
affixed  to  his  tomb;  poor  verse,  but  highly  expressive: 

"II  nous  restait  un  bon  abb§, 

C'etait  I'abb^  .  .  .  doydre; 

Grace  a  Louis  il  est  tombe. 

Sous  la  faux  meutridre. 

II  sera  venge: 

Son  clerge, 

Se  charge  de  laffalre." 

My  health  at  last  was  affected  by  want  of  air  and  happi- 
ness. I  was  so  discouraged  and  tired  of  being  scolded  that  I 
no  longer  made  any  eifort  to  work.  My  music-teacher,  Mme. 
Boucher,  who  was  about  to  set  out  on  a  journey,  came  to  de- 
clare that  she  could  not  conscientiously  continue  such  useless 
lessons.  Though  this  disinterestedness  was  rather  overdone, 
I  was  cruelly  blamed  and  punished  on  account  of  it.  My 
new  teacher,  M.  Bertini,  only  saw  in  his  crushed  and  wretched 
pupil  a  child  who  would  not  learn,  and  at  the  end  of  a  month 
he  came  with  the  same  complaint.  This  was  followed  by  a 
rain  of  blows !  I  can  see  myself  now  in  my  father's  study, 
hiding  my  bruised  cheeks  in  my  little  hands,  and  I  still  feel 
the  anger  that  secretly  shook  me  and  drove  all  filial  affection 
from  my  heart.  ...  I  remember,  also,  the  loss  of  my  beau- 
tiful long  curls,  which  they  cut  short  to  my  head  as  if  I  were 
a  convict.  ...  I  was  shut  up  in  my  room  for  a  long  time 
after  this;  my  little  heart  was  quelled,  but  still  rebellious. 


MEMOIRS  47 


and  I  said  to  myself:  "One  good  thing;  I  shall  not  have  to  see 
my  father !" 

The  celebrated  Fualdes  trial  was  going  on  while  I  was  con- 
fined in  this  way,  as  I  vaguely  remember  from  the  talk  of  my 
governess  and  writing-master;  also  1  saw  from  my  window 
the  funeral  procession  of  the  Due  de  Choiseul,  whose  house 
was  close  to  ours,  and  another  funeral  which  also  passed 
through  our  street  was  that  of  M.  de  Mamet,  who  was  killed 
in  a  duel — I  have  since  learned  why  and  by  whom. 

I  became  feverish,  with  a  bad  cough;  my  eyes  were  af- 
fected, and  the  physician,  being  sent  for,  thought  me  seriously 
ill,  put  me  on  a  diet,  and  particularly  prescribed  plenty  of 
fresh  air,  exercise,  and  amusement. 

After  this  they  were  obliged  to  let  me  out  of  prison;  I  could 
take  breath  and  walk  about,  but  that  was  not  enough;  I 
needed  the  open  air,  and  when  1  was  stronger  and  able  to 
take  long  walks,  I  would  leave  in  the  morning  with  my  faith- 
ful Denis,  and  go  on  foot  to  his  house  at  Courbevoie  to  see 
my  little  goddaughter,  her  mother  and  her  nurse;  then  there 
were  the  birds,  the  goat,  and  grapes  to  eat;  all  kinds  of  child- 
ish pleasures,  of  which  I  had  been  too  long  deprived.  Under 
this  treatment  I  grew  taller,  my  bright,  fresh  looks  came 
back  to  me,  and  by  the  end  of  the  winter,  toward  spring,  my 
hair  had  grown  out  again,  and  waved  in  long  brown  curls 
about  my  face,  prettier  than  ever. 

I  had  a  blue  coat  and  a  plain  round  hat,  made  of  black 
beaver;  when  I  walked  in  the  Tuileries  gardens  1  often  heard 
people  say:  "  Did  you  see  that  little  giri  ?    Such  a  charming 


48  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

face  V  When  I  got  home  I  would  look  at  myself  carefully 
in  the  glass,  trying  to  find  out  if  they  were  really  speaking  of 
me  .  .  .  and  my  big  blue  eyes,  straight  features,  and  sweet 
mouth  satisfied  my  passing  vanity,  and  proved  that  my  ad- 
mirers were  right ! 

These  little  attacks  of  conceit  did  not  last  long;  I  would 
forget  myself  the  moment  after,  for  I  was  already  beginning 
to  show  the  most  salient  trait  of  my  character,  which  has  al- 
ways been  to  think  of  others  first. 

My  mother's  family  arrived  shortly  after,  and  it  was  a  joy 
to  find  in  my  two  aunts,  Ismenie  and  Amable,  companions 
of  my  own  age;  for  the  first  was  two  years  older,  the  second 
two  years  younger,  than  myself.  With  the  oldest  I  became 
very  intimate,  and  the  friendship  then  begun  has  never 
diminished.  During  the  last  thirty  years  the  duties  and  oc- 
cupations of  my  life  have  often  separated  me  from  her,  but 
my  heart  has  always  clung  to  this  first  friend  of  my  childhood. 

My  other  aunts,  who  were  then  all  young  and  handsome, 
looked  down  on  us  as  children,  and  had  nothing  to  do  with 
us;  but  we  did  not  care  to  be  allowed  in  the  drawing-room; 
any  dark  corner  suited  us  better,  and  with  our  stories,  our 
games,  and  even  our  disputes,  we  got  along  very  well  by 
ourselves. 

Amable  was  a  pretty  child,  young  for  her  age,  and  we 
treated  her  as  we  were  treated  down-stairs,  as  a  little  baby, 
too  young  for  us  to  associate  with;  our  very  dolls  were  more 
grown-up  than  this  noisy  little  girl.  Our  claims  to  reason- 
ableness sometimes  ended  in  quarrels  between  her  and  me,  in 


MEMOIRS  49 


which  Ismenie,  as  our  elder,  was  obliged  to  interfere.  After 
these  duels,  as  I  had  more  money  than  the  others,  I  always 
sent  out  for  some  gingerbread,  and  it  sometimes  ended  up 
with  our  overeating  ourselves. 

Those  were  happy  times  for  me  on  that  second  floor  of  the 
Quai  d'Orsay;  when  there  I  forgot  my  own  home,  which  was 
the  best  thing  that  could  happen  to  me,  but  when  I  did  have 
to  go  back,  I  took  with  me  the  hope  of  getting  out  again  the 
next  Sunday;  that  made  a  future  for  me,  and  after  my  dreary 
past  the  present  appeared  bright  enough. 

My  stout  friend  and  fellow  godparent,  M.  Kesner,  liked 
sometimes  to  have  us  all  three  at  his  house,  though  Heaven 
alone  knows  what  pleasure  he  could  find  in  our  society !  We 
would  dine  with  him,  then  he  would  take  us  to  the  theatre, 
and  bring  us  back  to  our  mothers,  like  a  careful  nurse. 

One  day  I  quarrelled  with  Amable  about  I  don't  know 
what,  but  it  was  more  serious  and  violent  than  usual,  so  that 
the  champions  came,  I  must  not  say  to  their  hands,  for  we 
had  recourse  to  our  shoes,  which  we  pulled  off  to  use  as 
offensive  weapons.  To  my  great  annoyance,  this  new  form 
of  rapier  was  too  small,  and  I  was  mortified  to  find  myself 
so  inferior  in  means  of  defense.  I  had  never  been  proud  of 
my  small  foot,  but  now  I  was  made  to  blush  for  it  as  a 
deformity !  How  we  laughed  over  it  afterward,  I  as  heartily 
as  any  one,  for  my  anger  was  soon  over. 

I  grew  up  in  the  midst  of  this  childish  life,  which  was  in 
no  wise  disturbed  by  the  marriage  of  my  aunt  Virginie  and 
M.  de  Rocheplate.    The  ceremony,  which  was  more  interest- 


50  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

ing  to  my  mother  than  to  me,  took  place  in  the  winter,  and 
in  the  following  spring  we  went  to  Chatenay,  a  charming 
country  house  near  Paris.  Here  our  girlhood  really  began, 
but  Amable  and  I  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  be  much  more 
reasonable  in  our  behavior  than  before.  We  did  not  fight 
any  longer,  it  is  true,  but  any  one  who  had  seen  us  careering 
about  on  donkey-back  would  have  been  more  apt  to  take  us 
for  romping  boys  than  for  young  ladies  ten  to  twelve  years 
of  age. 

My  young  aunt  entered  into  everything  with  such  zest 
that  I  delighted  in  following  her  example,  and  we  did  not  let 
Mme.  de  Presle's  objections  stand  in  our  way,  for  all  she 
thought  of  was  the  danger  of  overloading  our  stomachs  if  we 
ate  too  much  fruit,  cake,  or  candy.  To  obviate  this  danger, 
as  far  as  we  were  concerned,  no  doubt,  she  took  care  to  eat 
all  our  desserts  and  titbits,  to  the  despair  of  poor  Amable, 
who  could  not  bear  it  patiently,  and  hated  to  see  our  greedy 
governess  skim  the  cream  off  our  pot  of  milk  every  morning, 
of  course,  to  make  it  more  digestible  for  us !  Sometimes 
Amable  would  do  the  same  thing,  herself,  and  then  what  a 
row  there  was !  We  were  now  too  old  to  be  whipped,  and 
madame  would  have  been  no  match  for  us  if  it  came  to  a 
struggle. 

These  games  and  schoolgirl  tricks  could  not  last  much 
longer.  It  was  time  for  my  first  communion,  and  I  medi- 
tated and  worked  for  it  in  solitude,  calmly  and  serenely.  As 
I  have  said,  my  religious  education  had  been  entirely  neg- 
lected.   How  often  since,  when  I  have  been  carefully  in- 


MINIATURE  OF  NAPOLEON  I,  WITH  THE  COCKADE  WORN  BY 
THE  EMPEROR  AT  THE  BATTLE  OF  AUSTERLITZ 


MEMOIRS  51 


structing  my  children,  I  have  sighed  to  think  of  all  that  I 
lacked  to  prepare  me  as  I  should  have  been  for  this  great 
event  in  my  life,  but  God,  who  sees  our  hearts,  had  pity  on 
me,  and  bestowed  the  grace  that  he  alone  can  give. 

All  my  resentment  died  out  through  the  spirit  of  Christian 
charity,  as  I  prayed  to  God  from  the  depths  of  my  soul.  I 
tried  to  fulfil  the  hardest  duties,  and  in  the  overflowing  ten- 
derness of  my  heart  I  turned  to  my  mother,  who  became  the 
object  of  my  strongest  affection.  She  has  been  my  tender- 
est  friend,  my  companion  in  joy  and  sorrow,  but  I  have  never 
found  support  or  advice  from  her. 

Though  scarcely  out  of  childhood,  it  was  I  who  may  be 
said  to  have  been  her  protector;  she  was  weak  and  gentle, 
full  of  feeling,  and  most  lovable,  but  crushed  under  the  heavy 
yoke  that  pressed  on  our  necks,  she  could  neither  evade  nor 
resist  this  pitiless  strength,  did  not  even  know  how  best  to 
endure  or  break  the  hard  and  painful  chain  that  bound  her. 

Perhaps  a  firmer,  more  reasonable  character  might  have 
had  dignity  enough  to  control  my  father's  temper  and  make 
it  less  difficult;  but  never  were  two  people  more  opposed;  two 
more  dissimilar  natures  were  never  brought  together;  and, 
for  our  misfortune,  the  contrast  had  the  worst  effect,  and  I 
was  like  grain  ground  between  the  two  millstones,  ignorant 
of  what  set  the  wheels  in  motion. 

I  was  forward  for  my  age,  and  vague  ideas  as  to  my  future 
gave  a  precocious  dignity  to  all  I  did,  but  without  a  trace  of 
arrogance,  for  though  not  proud,  I  felt  that  I  had  the  right 
to  be.     In  small  things,  as  in  great,  this  sentiment  has  al- 


52  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

ways  guided  me.  Instinctively  I  inspired  respect  and  often 
love,  for  I  was  gentle  and  kind  with  my  inferiors,  simple  and 
reserved  with  those  who  thought  themselves  my  equals,  and 
held  myself  with  dignity  in  all  dealings  with  my  superiors. 
My  even  temper  hardly  ever  failed  me,  for  my  pride  helped 
me  to  control  my  impatience  or  my  anger,  and  moderate  any 
outbursts  of  joy  or  pleasure,  for  I  would  not  betray  my  secret 
thoughts  to  the  vulgar  herd,  and  felt  that  no  one  had  the 
right  to  read  my  soul.  What  powers  I  might  possess  for  ten- 
derness, passion,  or  love  I  did  not  myself  know  at  that  time. 

Childhood  and  youth  mingled  gently  within  me,  prompting 
me  to  play  and  run  about,  and  at  the  same  time  to  dream; 
to  be  at  once  gay  and  serious,  giddy  and  thoughtful.  My 
disposition  was  already  tinged  with  the  color  of  my  past,  and 
though  I  yielded  readily  to  the  gaiety  of  others,  I  was  nat- 
urally inclined  to  be  melancholy — can  it  have  been  a  presen- 
timent ? 

A  good  many  people  came  to  see  us  while  we  were  at  Cha- 
tenay,  but  I  do  not  seem  to  remember  any  of  them  clearly. 
My  mother  occupied  herself  much  more  with  me  now,  and 
kept  me  with  her  more.  One  day,  when  she  took  me  to  Ma- 
labry,  to  the  house  of  M.  de  St.  Just,  they  were  acting  cha- 
rades and  proverbs,  in  which  the  famous  Ciceri  and  Cheru- 
bini's  daughters  also  took  part,  I  think,  but  I  was  so  little 
interested  in  what  went  on  at  this  time  that  I  cannot  be  cer- 
tain. At  the  end  of  our  stay  in  the  country  Mme.  de  Presle 
left  us;  I  saw  her  go  without  regret  certainly,  but,  also,  I  bore 
her  no  malice. 


MEMOIRS  53 


My  mother  now  slept  in  the  room  next  to  mine,  and  we 
then  entered  on  that  tender  life  in  common  which  has  never 
been  altered  since,  even  by  my  marriage. 

I  was  indolent  and  worked  little,  but  continued  to  have  a 
taste  for  drawing,  and  as  I  wished  to  cultivate  it  further,  my 
mother  entered  me  in  a  class  for  young  people,  taught  by 
M.  Laurent,  which  had  a  great  reputation. 

From  this  time  I  began  to  go  about  with  my  mother;  and 
I  have  always  remembered  these  first  occasions  because  of 
the  compliments  bestowed  on  my  mother  and  me,  and  also 
on  account  of  the  importance  I  attached  to  going  into  society. 
We  visited  at  the  house  of  the  Duchesse  de  Bassano,  and  here, 
as  was  the  case  almost  everywhere,  there  was  much  said  of 
the  Emperor.  They  spoke  of  St.  Helena,  where  he  was  im- 
prisoned, and  of  those  around  him,  his  oppressors. 

When  his  illness  and  death  became  known,  it  caused  pro- 
found grief  and  a  thirst  for  vengeance.  The  "  Memorial  de 
St.  H61^ne,"  by  the  Comte  de  Las  Cases,  made  public  the 
long  sufferings  of  the  martyred  hero,  and  every  one  longed 
impatiently  to  see  those  who  had  stood  by  his  death-bed. 
The  thoughts  of  many  also  turned  toward  the  so-called  Na- 
poleon 1 1,  but  the  future  was  hid,  and  no  one  could  have  be- 
lieved how  many  with  the  same  pretensions  to  the  throne 
would  follow  this  phantom  of  royalty  into  the  same  exile. 

We  saw  a  great  deal  of  General  Duchamp,  who  had  mar- 
ried a  friend  of  my  aunts.  He  was  a  fine-looking  soldier  of 
the  empire,  a  little  stiff  and  d rum-ma jorish,  as  was  the  way 
in  those  martial  times,  but  brave  to  recklessness.    His  con- 


54  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

quering  airs  might  have  been  taken  for  boastfulness,  if  his 
worth  and  bravery  had  not  been  equally  beyond  question. 
He  pushed  his  battery  so  close  to  the  enemies'  lines  at  Water- 
loo, that  the  Emperor  cried  out:  "Duchamp  deserts!" — a 
splendid  compliment. 

My  father  thought  that  the  house  we  lived  in  at  this  time 
was  too  small,  but  as  he  could  not  at  once  obtain  possession 
of  the  handsome  hotel  he  wanted,  he  took  a  small  lodging  in 
the  Rue  Basse  du  Rempart,  where  we  removed  our  household 
goods,  but  which  has  not  left  an  agreeable  impression  on  my 
mind. 

We  were  exceedingly  uncomfortable,  but  that  made  no  dif- 
ference to  our  lord  and  master;  as  long  as  we  had  a  fine  car- 
riage to  show  ourselves  in,  a  drawing-room  in  which  to  enter- 
tain our  visitors,  nothing  else  mattered.  We  were  like  pranc- 
ing horses,  who  might  live  in  any  kind  of  a  stable,  provided 
their  harness  did  credit  to  their  owner.  My  mother's  charm 
and  my  conspicuous  beauty  flattered  my  father's  self-love, 
the  only  love  of  which  he  was  capable. 

I  was  now  fourteen,  and  no  longer  a  child;  my  face  and 
figure  were  adorned  with  the  grace  of  young  girlhood,  and  I 
could  go  nowhere  without  attracting  attention.  Our  neigh- 
bors and  friends,  every  one  who  saw  me,  felt  the  charm  of  my 
youthful  bloom,  so  that  young  men  who  lived  near  us  would 
stand  for  hours  under  my  window,  hoping  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  me,  and  those  who  were  admitted  to  the  house  fell  in  love 
with  me. 

As  I  have  said,  we  were  intimate  with  the  Bassano  family; 


MEMOIRS  55 


the  duchess  was  still  superbly  handsome,  though  the  mother 
of  five,  two  sons  and  three  daughters.  The  eldest,  who  after- 
ward married  the  Comte  de  Bayet-Latour,  was  singularly 
plain,  so  that  every  one  wondered  how  such  a  poor  flower 
could  have  grown  on  so  magnificent  a  plant ! 

The  brother  next  to  her  in  age — she  was  twenty  five  or  six 
years  old — ^was  called  Napoleon.  He  was  as  handsome  as  his 
mother,  and  a  suitable  age  for  me,  so  it  was  no  wonder  that 
the  duchess's  friends  all  recommended  him  to  my  parents  as 
a  good  match.  I  liked  him  well  enough,  and  all  that  spring 
I  used  to  imagine  long  stories  in  which  the  heroes  always  had 
the  dark  eyes  and  general  appearance  of  the  Emperor's  god- 
son. They  may  have  had  also  a  little  more  cleverness  .  .  . 
but  in  these  romances — somewhat  in  the  style  of  Riquet  a  la 
Houppe — I  was  always  clever  enough  for  two. 

These  visions  did  not  keep  me  awake  at  night,  nor  spoil 
my  appetite;  above  all,  they  did  not  prevent  my  observation 

of  young  Comte  Em.  de  L ,  who  had  returned  with  his 

father  from  exile  at  St.  Helena.  He  thought  me  very  charm- 
ing, and  made  no  secret  of  his  sentiments,  in  verse  and  prose. 

It  was  also  about  this  same  time  that  I  knew  dear  Anselme 
Rothschild,  who  had  come  to  Paris  to  work  with  his  uncle. 
He  came  in  one  day  to  visit  my  father,  and  caught  sight  of 
me !  Of  course  his  visits  were  constantly  repeated,  and  God 
alone  knows  the  anxiety  this  caused  his  tutor,  M.  Berger. 
Poor  Mentor  was  terribly  alarmed  when  he  saw  that  Telem- 
achus  had  discovered  such  a  Eucharis ! 

We  could  scarcely  be  expected  to  throw  him  out  of  our 


56  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

opera-box;  and  there  he  would  sit  behind  my  beautiful  per- 
fumed brown  tresses,  entirely  oblivious  of  the  fact  that  he 
was  engaged  to  a  Jewess !  M.  Berger  was  perfectly  miser- 
able when  we  went  on  country  excursions,  and  he  would  fidget 
about  in  the  background  while  I  ate  his  employer's  delicious 
apricot  tarts.  His  pupil's  attentions  left  me  perfectly  calm; 
of  course  I  knew  that  he  admired — loved  me,  in  fact,  and 
that  pleased  me,  but  I  really  attached  little  importance  to  it, 
and  felt  none  of  the  eager  wish  to  attract. 

It  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  draw  up  a  list,  or  write 
the  biographies  of  those  who — ^as  they  say  in  romances — 
sighed  for  my  charms,  or  of  the  parents  who,  knowing  that 
I  was  an  only  daughter,  desired  a  union  with  me,  on  account 
of  my  probable  dot.  All  I  can  say  is,  that  at  the  Duchess  of 
Bassano's  the  Comte  de  Brigode  took  particular  notice  of  me. 
He  was  a  man  of  middle  age,  amiable,  sprightly,  and  witty; 
but  it  was  clear  that  his  attentions  to  a  little  girl  like  me 
must  have  reference  to  his  son,  whom  he  had  brought  up  with 
the  most  extreme  care.  This  was  spoken  of  in  my  hearing, 
and  when  spring  brought  back  the  drive  to  Longchamp — 
quite  out  of  fashion  now,  but  then  considered  delightful — it 
was  not  difficult  to  guess  that  the  tall  young  man  riding  with 
the  Comte  de  Brigode  must  be  the  son  on  whom  my  future 
welfare  might  depend. 

A  few  days  aftei  this  the  count,  who  had  become  quite  in- 
timate with  my  father,  told  him  that  he  meant  to  complete 
his  son's  education  by  travel,  and  that  he  should  arrange  a 


MEMOIRS  57 


marriage  for  him  when  he  returned  from  the  tour  of  Europe. 
And  when  my  father  invited  him  to  dinner,  he  and  Arthur 
both  came.  The  young  man  was  fresh-colored,  with  a  long 
face  and  blue  eyes;  he  was  timid  and  observant,  even  shy, 
not  much  air  about  him  as  yet,  but  not  awkward  in  manner; 
such  was  my  first  impression.  He  was  still  a  mere  boy,  but 
it  was  not  long  before  he  began  to  regret  the  journey  before 
him,  in  which  he  should  have  taken  so  much  pleasure.  I 
think  perhaps  before  he  left  his  father  meant  to  bind  his 
heart  by  a  thread  strong  enough  to  draw  him  back  to  France, 
in  case  he  took  a  fancy  while  abroad  of  which  his  mentor  did 
not  approve;  but  such  an  idea  was  too  middle-aged  for  either 
of  us.  Our  respective  positions  made  it  natural  for  him  to 
think  of  me  with  a  tender  hope,  and  on  my  part,  when  I  saw 
how  he  was  improved  by  the  wish  to  please,  and  the  charm 
of  his  young  love,  I  looked  forward  to  his  return  without 
reluctance. 

Happy  age,  when  one  can  trust  the  future  and  count  on  to- 
morrow, when  the  sad  experiences  which  await  you  have  not 
yet  blighted  your  dearest  hopes  and  dreams ! 

For  some  days  we  met  often  when  I  went  out  to  walk,  and 
he  could  offer  me  his  arm;  he  came  to  the  house,  too,  some- 
times with  his  father.  Then  my  mother  and  I  left  Paris,  to 
spend  some  time  at  Camaldules,  formerly  a  convent,  but  at 
this  time  all  that  remained  was  an  old  building  where  M.  de 
Rocheplates'  mother  lived.  My  mother  wanted  to  persuade 
herself  that  she  enjoyed  country  life,  but  that  was  an  illusion 
that  I  did  not  share. 


58  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

It  was  a  queer  old  house,  but  even  in  its  ruins  there  was 
nothing  to  recall  the  ancient  religious  glories  of  the  place. 
The  whole  atmosphere  was  sordid  and  mean.  We  paid  a 
high  price  for  poor,  untidy  lodgings,  and  we  only  put  up 
with  it  because  anything  was  better  for  us  than  to  stay  at 
home. 

The  monotony  of  our  existence  was  broken  by  a  letter  from 
the  Comte  de  Brigode;  he  wished  to  take  leave  of  us,  and 
asked  to  be  allowed  to  come  to  Camaldules.  We  looked 
about  at  our  broken-seated  chairs,  the  dining-room — to  call 
it  so — ^where  a  slatternly  cook  made  omelets  on  a  worm- 
eaten  table,  the  hole  dignified  by  the  name  of  parlor,  the  cab- 
bage-patch under  the  windows  of  the  house  that  was  neither 
a  cottage  nor  a  country-seat,  and  we  answered  that  as  we 
were  not  in  our  own  house  we  could  not  have  visitors  there, 
but  that  we  would  meet  them  somewhere  on  their  road  to 
wish  them  good-by  and  good  speed. 

We  had  our  own  carriage,  so  all  that  was  necessary  was  to 
find  something  fit  to  wear  when  we  went  to  meet  our  two 
agreeable  gentlemen,  and  my  inexperience  and  some  strange 
notions  of  my  mother's  suggested  the  most  singular  arrange- 
ment. 

I  can  never  think  of  it  without  laughing,  but  we  set  out  in 
broad  daylight,  in  an  open  carriage,  with  India  muslins,  then 
called  "^corce  d'arbre,"  low  neck  and  short  sleeves,  no  scarf 
or  fichu,  and  little  gray  silk  aprons,  like  shepherdesses  in  a 
comic  opera;  we  wore  big  straw  hats,  fit  only  for  the  garden. 

I  was  only  fifteen,  and  anything  is  possible  at  that  age,  but 


MEMOIRS  59 


fancy  my  poor  mother !  It  was  in  this  theatrical  guise  that 
we  parted  from  our  two  travellers,  in  the  gayest  spirits,  with- 
out the  shadow  of  a  presentiment,  full  of  confidence  and  hope. 

They  put  us  in  our  carriage  at  the  end  of  an  hour,  got  into 
their  own,  and  we  watched  them  drive  away. 

Six  months  had  hardly  elapsed  when  one  returned  alone, 
broken-hearted,  bringing  with  him  the  remains  of  that  son, 
the  object  of  all  his  fondest  thoughts  and  expectations. 

This  tragic  news  reached  us  in  November,  after  our  dreary 
stay  at  Camaldules,  and  a  still  drearier  autumn  in  our  de- 
pressing apartment  in  the  Rue  Basse.  Young  de  Brigode 
was  taken  ill  in  Florence  of  one  of  those  climatic  fevers  so 
often  fatal  to  foreigners,  and  had  died  in  his  father's  arms 
after  an  illness  of  about  three  weeks.  A  letter  from  the  un- 
happy count  came  soon  after  to  confirm  the  sad  tidings;  he 
begged  us  to  share  his  grief  under  this  crushing  blow,  and 
spoke  sadly  of  the  future  to  which  he  had  looked  forward 
with  the  woman  whom  his  son  loved. 

Since  that  day  many  trials  have  taught  me  to  understand 
what  grief  is,  so  that  now  I  can  realize  all  that  passed  in  my 
heart.  It  was  not  that  I  felt  so  much  pain,  it  was  rather  the 
shock,  which  startled  and  hurt  me,  more  than  actual  suffer- 
ing; it  was  the  first  time  that  I  had  seen  the  tragedy  of  life, 
that  the  accents  of  sorrow  had  been  addressed  directly  to  me. 
A  broken-hearted  father  turned  to  me  for  consolation,  told 
me  that  because  of  his  affection  for  me  I  had  a  part  in  his 
life — I  had  a  duty  to  fulfil !  This  thought  followed  me  every- 
where, and  it  was  with  the  deepest  emotion  that  I  looked  for- 


60  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

ward  to  the  meeting  with  the  unhappy  man  whom  I  might 
have  called  father. 

In  the  victim  of  acute  pain,  grief  shows  itself  according  to 
the  disposition  of  the  sufferer;  and  instead  of  the  profound 
inward  sadness  that  I  expected,  I  was  now  witness  to  the  dis- 
tressing spectacle  of  the  most  dreadful  transports  of  agony 
that  could  tear  the  human  soul. 

To  violent  and  extreme  attacks  of  grief  would  succeed  an 
equally  excessive  depression,  so  that  I  was  in  turn  touched 
and  alarmed,  and  wept  for  sympathy,  while  my  heart  was 
filled  with  the  idea  of  help  for  this  bitter  sorrow,  and  I  made 
it  my  duty  to  seek  out  every  means  of  consolation. 

Our  efforts — ^for  my  mother  did  all  that  she  could — ^were 
without  effect  for  a  long  time.  The  only  result  was  that  M. 
de  Brigode  was  tenderly  grateful,  and  had  formed  the  habit, 
which  soon  became  a  necessity,  of  being  with  us  as  much  as 
possible. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  winter  he  asked  my  father  to  take  a 
place  for  the  summer  where  he  could  have  the  shooting,  and 
so  remain  near  us,  his  only  friends  and  consolers.  During 
our  drives  in  the  neighborhood  of  Paris  we  looked  for  such  a 
retired  spot  as  he  wished,  and  quite  by  accident  we  came  upon 
Noisel.  What  memories  of  youth  are  evoked  by  that  name  I 
When  I  made  a  sad  pilgrimage  to  the  chateau  later  on,  it 
seemed  to  partake  of  the  same  melancholy,  but  that  first  time 
how  gay  and  bright  it  looked !  I  was  charmed  too  by  the 
park,  with  the  Marne  flowing  through  it.  Oh,  for  the  golden 
light  that  shone  upon  my  fifteenth  year ! 


MEMOIRS  61 


I  have  never  been  an  enthusiast  for  the  country;  have  never 
lost  my  way  while  dreamily  wandering  about  the  chateau.  I 
did  not  walk  out  to  look  at  the  sunrise  or  the  sunset;  I  had 
plenty  of  sentiment,  but  I  liked  it  better  in  a  handsome  hotel 
than  in  a  cottage,  for  I  was  not  at  all  romantic  and  the  farm- 
yard had  no  charm  for  me.  I  liked  the  gay  world  in  modera- 
tion, but  I  was  ready  to  change  my  tastes  in  accordance  with 
my  circumstances. 

As  soon  as  we  were  settled  at  Noisel  we  began  to  exchange 
visits  with  our  numerous  neighbors,  and  M.  de  Brigode's 
friends  came  to  shoot  with  him,  and  were  presented  to  us. 
Our  landlord,  the  Due  de  Levis,  was  soon  devoted  to  us  and 
to  our  cook,  whose  delicious  pastry  had  at  least  as  much 
charm  for  him  as  we  ourselves.  He  was  a  witty  old  man,  of 
the  most  lofty  lineage,  but  dressed  like  a  ragpicker — a  type 
of  the  ancient  voltigeur  under  Louis  XV.  I  can  see  him  now 
as  he  would  come  to  lunch,  with  holes  in  his  stockings  and  a 
shabby  hat — but  always  provided  with  some  charming  verses 
as  well  as  an  enormous  appetite.  If  it  had  not  been  for  his 
rank  no  one  would  have  put  up  with  his  strange  ways,  and  at 
court  he  was  called  the  "  Pale  Monkey,"  a  nickname  that  de- 
scribed him  fairly  well.  He  was  gentleman  in  waiting  to 
Madame,  and  used  to  say  of  her:  "She  has  the  reputation  of 
being  ill  bred,  but  that  is  a  mistake;  she  has  no  breeding  at 
all."  As  a  proof  of  this  statement,  there  was  a  story  that 
once  when  the  old  duke  fell  into  a  doze  Madame  stole  his  wig, 
and  left  him  to  wake  up  with  his  bald  head  bare,  at  the  risk 
of  catching  cold.    Another  time,  when  he  fainted  at  the  little 


62  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

chateau,  they  wanted  to  sprinkle  him  with  vinegar,  but  some 
one  took  the  wrong  cruet  and  poured  oil  on  him  first,  making 
a  salad  of  the  poor  chevaHer  d'honneur.  In  spite  of  all  this, 
1  really  liked  him;  my  sympathies  were  with  this  great  noble, 
who  wore  his  rags  with  such  proud  distinction;  then  he  was 
so  high  bred,  with  such  a  grand  manner  and  the  most  innate 
politeness,  rare  enough  in  those  days;  fancy  what  it  would  be 
now !  His  son,  the  Due  de  Ventadour,  was  not  so  much  to 
my  liking,  and  we  seldom  saw  him. 

At  the  Chateau  de  Chenet  we  had  for  a  neighbor  Baron 
Roger,  who  was  doing  his  best  to  bring  up  his  son  by  his  mar- 
riage with  Mme.  de  Montholon,  who  had  two  living  hus- 
bands, to  say  nothing  of  others !  Since  M.  de  Montholon's 
return  from  St.  Helena,  she  had  gone  back  to  him,  but  M. 
Roger  did  not  object.  Young  Roger  used  to  go  to  see  her, 
shake  hands  with  the  Comte  de  Montholon,  and  then  go 
home  to  his  own  papa,  all  in  the  most  comfortable  manner 
possible.  Once  when  1  was  at  Chenet  I  met  the  Comtesse  de 
Guilleminot,  wife  of  our  ambassador  to  Turkey.  She  had 
just  come  back  from  Constantinople  with  her  two  daughters, 
one  of  whom  married  the  younger  Baron  Roger. 

I  felt  the  greatest  interest  in  Mme.  Guilleminot,  who  had 
been  a  Miss  Fernic,  aide-de-camp  to  Dumouriez;  but  1  could 
never  imagine  this  delicate  little  woman,  with  her  gentle, 
timid  manner,  galloping  about,  brandishing  sabres  and  pis- 
tols; I  did  not  doubt  it,  of  course,  but  it  was  a  thing  1  should 
have  liked  to  see  with  my  own  eyes. 

At  the  Chateau  de  la  Lande  we  often  saw  the  dear,  good 


MEMOIRS  63 


Due  de  Trevise,  better  known  under  the  name  of  Marshal 
Mortier,  the  greatest  man,  I  really  think,  that  I  had  ever 
seen.  If  he  had  not  been  the  hero  of  twenty  battles  I  should 
simply  call  him  a  big  man,  for  he  was  more  than  six  feet  in 
height.  His  family  consisted  of  his  wife — a  plain,  good- 
natured  German,  four  daughters  and  a  son.  The  eldest  had 
married  the  Comte  de  Rumigny  some  time  before;  the  other, 
lovely  Malvina  as  she  was  called,  became  the  wife  of  the 
Vicomte  de  Bellazone.  Then  came  my  contemporary,  Lou- 
ise, who  died  young,  and  the  beautiful  Efienne,  afterward 
Mme.  Gudin.  Young  Trevise  was  so  shy  and  kept  himself 
so  much  in  the  background,  that  I  was  hardly  aware  of  his 
existence  until  the  marshal  asked  my  hand  for  him !  But  I 
was  already  engaged,  and,  in  spite  of  the  disappointment, 
these  worthy  people  were  always  so  kind  and  friendly  to  me 
that  I  not  only  felt  honored  by  their  proposal,  but  have  ever 
since  had  a  real  affection  for  them. 

Among  others  in  the  neighborhood  were,  also,  the  Mon- 
tesquious  and  the  Turets — or  Turcarets,  as  they  called  them- 
selves— who  lived  at  the  Chateau  de  Ramilly;  and,  besides, 
we  had  many  visitors,  who  came  out  from  Paris;  the  Marquis 
de  Bethisy,  whose  wife  was  lady  in  waiting  to  Madame,  the 
Marquis  de  Seigneley,  General  Belliard,  whose  statue  at  Bris- 
sels  is  well  known.  I  never  should  have  thought  in  my  wild- 
est dreams  that  this  little  fat  man,  with  cheeks  like  a  rosy 
apple,  whom  I  compared,  when  1  saw  him  in  his  queer  shoot- 
ing-coat, to  a  "marchand  de  coco,"  on  account  of  his  powder- 
horns,  which  stuck  out  so  strangely — I  repeat  I  could  never 


64  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

have  imagined  that  I  should  see  him  adorning  a  pubHc  square, 
like  one  of  Homer's  heroes. 

Another  visitor  was  the  Comte  de  Thermes,  who  had  been 
a  court  page  in  his  youth;  I  was  undoubtedly  his  attrac- 
tion. He  had  the  reputation  of  having  been  charming,  and 
he  still  had  talent,  wit,  and  the  smallest  waist  ever  seen,  which 
enabled  him  to  play  all  sorts  of  tricks  under  a  mask  and  dom- 
ino. I  never  knew  exactly  what  happened,  but  in  one  of  his 
feminine  disguises  there  was  some  difficulty  between  him  and 
M.  de  Brigode,  who  could  not  bear  the  sight  of  him.  They 
were  always  laughing  at  one  another,  but  in  my  opinion 
M.  de  Brigode  surpassed  him  in  everything,  particularly  in 
height,  the  little  man's  age  making  him  look  like  an  elderly 
woman.  Colonel  Brack,  without  being  much  younger,  was  a 
great  deal  more  agreeable  than  the  former  page;  his  well-pre- 
served, charming  face,  his  remarkable  cleverness,  and  the 
amusing  stories  he  told,  made  him  a  great  success.  In  a 
short  time  he  began  to  pay  me  the  most  devoted  attention,  so 
much  so  that  it  drew  down  on  me  the  serious  disapproval  of 
M.  de  Brigode,  who  called  me  a  flirt,  and  took  the  matter  as 
a  personal  affront.  The  Lord  only  knows  what  he  said  of 
my  conduct !  He  drew  a  terrible  picture  of  it,  and  I  was  hor- 
rified by  the  bad  things  he  told  me  of  my  own  character.  I 
believed  it  all,  and  though  I  did  not  understand  the  jealousy 
that  made  him  see  everything  I  did  through  a  magnifying- 
glass,  I  submitted,  feeling  that  I  could  no  longer  tell  right 
from  wrong.  He  was  forever  making  scenes — that  is  the  only 
word — sometimes  about  one  man,  sometimes  about  another; 


MADEMOISELLE  LEROY  AT  FIFTEEN  YEARS  OF  AGE 


MEMOIRS  65 


it  all  seemed  exaggerated  to  me,  ignorant  as  I  was  of  his  un- 
derlying feelings;  but  I  did  think  he  might  have  been  a  little 
more  indulgent,  considering  that  I  was  almost  his  adopted 
child.  I  could  not  imagine  why  he  showed  so  much  irrita- 
tion, even  anger,  when  any  young  man  came  near  me.  A 
proposal  for  me  drove  him  beside  himself.  Could  it  be  that 
he  was  jealous  in  memory,  and  for  the  sake  of  his  son?  I 
was  to  find  the  answer  to  the  questions  later. 

We  were  all  sorry  to  leave  Noisel,  for  our  first  summer  there 
had  been  very  pleasant,  and  the  presence  of  M.  de  Brigode 
had  put  a  check  on  my  father's  outbursts  of  temper.  The 
winter  was  passed  in  the  hope  of  soon  leaving  the  gloomy 
apartment  for  our  fine  new  hotel. 

We  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  four  Montebello 
brothers  at  a  garden-party  we  gave  at  Noisel,  and  two  of 
these  gentlemen  did  me  the  honor  to  think  seriously  of  me. 
My  father  only  laughed,  but  it  did  not  seem  to  amuse  M. 
de  Brigode.  He  was  positively  rude  to  any  suitor  who  re- 
quested his  intervention,  or  he  would  plead  his  cause  with 
such  a  bad  grace  that  it  looked  as  if  he  was  trying  to  make 
away  with  the  unfortunate  pretender  to  my  hand  rather 
than  seeking  a  happy  marriage  for  him.  There  was  only  one 
that  he  favored,  and  he  was  the  Marquis  de  la  Briflfe,  and  a 
very  queer  kind  of  a  lover !  His  nickname  was  Coco,  and 
he  would  look  at  me  sideways  out  of  his  little  round  eyes 
with  a  stupid  stare,  till  my  angora  cat  would  frighten  him 
into  keeping  his  distance  properly  by  jumping  on  his  shoul- 
ders. 


66  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

I  was  indolent,  as  I  have  said,  but  I  was  never  idle.  Some- 
times I  worked  for  my  father,  writing  from  his  dictation,  or 
copying  his  letters.  He  had  not  only  a  very  quick  and  bril- 
liant mind,  but  wrote  extremely  well,  and  it  was  his  thorough 
knowledge  of  financial  questions  that  had  gained  him  a  large 
fortune.  His  talents  also  enabled  him  to  be  of  service  to 
many  people,  who,  however,  did  not  boast  of  it.  The  Mar- 
quis de  Chauvelin  had  a  much  higher  reputation  than  he  de- 
served, for  not  one  of  his  speeches  in  the  Chamber  was  writ- 
ten by  himself;  my  father  composed  them  all,  and  dictated 
them  to  me;  they  were  too  great  a  bore  for  me  to  forget  them 
in  a  hurry,  and  M.  de  Chauvelin  carried  to  his  grave  the  ap- 
plause of  the  two  Chambers.  ...  I  trust  that  it  will  not 
weigh  so  heavily  on  him  as  his  success  did  on  me ! 

There  was  also  Baron  Louis,  called  L'abbe,  who  was  minis- 
ter of  finance  for  a  long  time;  he  was  considered  very  remark- 
able as  long  as  my  father  pulled  the  strings  which  moved  him, 
and  my  father  was  also  the  moving  spirit  of  the  company  of 
receivers-general;  nothing  went  well  from  the  moment  of  his 
retirement. 

I  was  still  so  young  that  it  was  not  thought  best  that  I 
should  go  regularly  into  society,  but  I  did  not  care  much 
about  it,  and  saw  my  mother  start  out  for  a  ball  with  an  in- 
different eye;  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  my  summer  in  the 
country  had  greatly  increased  my  good  looks.  My  appear- 
ance this  year  at  Longchamp  was  a  real  triumph,  a  flattering 
murmur  rose  from  the  crowd  as  we  passed,  and  the  papers  all 
spoke  of  the  lovely  and  charming  Mile,  de  Pellapra.     I  can- 


MEMOIRS  67 


not  deny  that  this  pleased  me,  but  my  precocious  common 
sense  and  cleverness  kept  me  from  being  vain;  all  this  admira- 
tion was  not  necessary  to  me,  and  in  spite  of  the  almost  ex- 
aggerated compliments  which  were  lavished  on  me  at  differ- 
ent times,  I  never  cared  much  for  fashion  or  display;  and  I 
cannot  remember,  above  all,  an  occasion  on  which  I  neglected 
a  duty  for  the  sake  of  amusement.  It  seemed  foolish  to  me 
that  one  should  leave  one's  own  house  just  to  show  oneself 
in  public,  and  at  no  time  in  my  life  would  I  neglect  happiness 
for  pleasure. 

I  went  back  to  Noisel  as  to  an  old  friend,  but  did  not  find 
the  same  affectionate  parent  in  our  companion  there.  M.  de 
Brigode  was  not  the  same,  and  though  I  redoubled  my  atten- 
tions toward  him,  he  seemed  to  be  weary  of  them.  Formerly 
he  encouraged  what  little  talent  I  had  for  painting,  lent  me 
pictures  to  copy,  made  me  show  him  my  work,  which  he  would 
praise  or  criticise,  like  the  expert  that  he  was;  but  now  he 
always  seemed  constrained  and  watchful  when  he  was  with 
me;  then  all  at  once  he  would  look  at  me  so  tenderly  and 
sadly  that  it  brought  tears  to  my  eyes. 

At  last  one  day,  when  fresh  proposals  of  marriage  had  fol- 
lowed us  out  to  Noisel,  he  gave  me  his  arm,  and  as  we  walked 
up  and  down  in  front  of  the  house,  he  began  to  talk  about 
these  offers,  which  had  already  gone  out  of  my  head.  "  You 
must  tell  me.  Mile.  Mizi,  which  of  these  husbands  you  prefer, 
for  you  are  so  secretive  about  it  that  I  cannot  guess."  "To 
tell  you  the  truth,  I  don't  care  for  any  of  them,"  said  I ;  "even 
if  I  were  old  enough  to  be  married  at  once,  it  would  be  diffi- 


68  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

cult  for  me  to  choose,  for  I  am  indifferent  to  all  these  gentle- 
men; any  one  of  them  is  good  enough  to  dance  with  me  or  go 
shooting  with  you,  but  as  a  husband  and  master,  no !"  "  But 
I  know  you  will  have  to  come  to  it  sooner  or  later,  dear  Mizi. 
I  feel  more  unhappy  about  it  than  I  can  tell  you,  for  the  sake 
of  the  past,  as  well  as  for  the  future;  your  marriage  will  sep- 
arate me  from  you,  who  are  my  sole,  my  last  blessing !  You 
ask  why  we  must  separate  ?  Because  your  husband  will  not 
marry  all  those  you  love;  a  young  man  will  want  to  keep  you 
to  himself,  and  if  he  should  travel  he  would  naturally  take 
you  with  him.  .  .  /*  "  Dear  friend,"  I  interrupted,  "  I  shall 
never  marry  any  one  unless  I  am  assured  that  he  will  not 
part  me  from  my  mother;  you  know  our  life  so  well  that  I 
need  not  tell  you  how  much  she  needs  me;  we  must  have 
some  support,  and  we  only  breathe  freely  when  you  are  there; 
I  will  never  leave  my  mother  alone,  helpless  as  she  would  be 
without  us !"  "A  young  man  could  not  manage  your  father; 
he  would  simply  take  you  away."  "  I  will  not  marry  a  young 
man,  then,  if  that  is  the  case  1" 

M.  de  Brigode's  emotion  at  this  point  was  so  strong  that 
he  was  forced  to  stand  still;  I  was  struck  by  his  agitated  ex- 
pression, but  when  I  asked  him  affectionately  if  he  felt  ill  he 
went  away,  leaving  me  disturbed,  and  wondering  what  he 
could  mean  by  his  changeable  conduct. 

All  the  rest  of  that  day  he  was  thoughtful,  and  when  he 
spoke  to  me  he  seemed  so  moved  that  it  was  impossible  for 
me  to  help  seeing  that  whatever  he  was  feeling,  it  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  me.  The  next  day,  when  we  were  sitting 
together  on  the  porch,  overlooking  the  Marne,  he  asked  me 


MEMOIRS  69 


if  I  had  not  thought  for  some  time  that  he  was  behaving 
strangely.  I  answered  that  I  thought  he  had  some  trouble 
on  his  mind,  which  made  him  more  irritable  than  usual. 

"  Yes/'  said  he,  "  I  am  in  trouble,  but  I  could  never  have 
believed  that  I  could  suffer  so  much,  except  for  him  whom  I 
shall  always  mourn;  I  cannot  endure  my  life  any  longer,  if  it 
is  to  be  like  this;  the  agony  I  feel  at  the  thought  of  parting 
from  you  has  opened  my  eyes  as  to  my  real  sentiments,  and 
I  realize  that  my  affection  for  you  is  not  that  of  a  father;  I 
am  madly  in  love  with  you !  The  mere  idea  that  I  may  lose 
you,  that  you  may  belong  to  another,  drives  me  wild.  I  lose 
all  control  of  myself  when  I  think  of  my  age,  which  stands 
between  us,  when  my  whole  heart  and  soul  cry  out  for  you. 
Something  that  you  said  just  now  has  given  me  a  glimpse  of 
heaven.  Can  it  be  true  that  you  would  not  shrink  from  a 
man  of  my  age?" 

I  was  not  so  surprised  as  one  would  have  thought,  and  was 
able  to  reply.  "No,"  I  said,  "it  is  not  your  age  that  would 
trouble  me,  but  your  character;  I  am  afraid  that  you  would 
never  have  confidence  in  one  whom  you  look  upon  as  a  child, 
and  if  you  were  to  keep  me  on  edge  all  the  time  as  you  have 
done  lately,  I  should  be  miserable." 

"  If  you  cared  enough  for  me  to  overlook  the  only  thing 
that  stands  between  us,  I  should  have  neither  doubts  nor 
fears;  consequently,  in  me  you  would  see  only  a  man  whose 
happiness  would  be  as  great  as  his  devotion.  I  love  you 
more  passionately  than  you  will  ever  be  loved  again,  I  live 
only  in  you,  and  my  gratitude  will  be  boundless.  I  will  ask 
for  no  promise  or  engagement  now,  and  if  I  have  spoken  it 


70  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

was  only  because  silence  was  death  to  me;  my  sufferings  could 
no  longer  be  concealed;  I  was  becoming  a  burden  to  you  as 
well  as  to  myself.  .  .  .  Young  as  you  are,  alas,  you  are 
very  reasonable.  Think  over  what  I  have  said.  You  are 
not  quite  sixteen,  and  I  am  forty-eight !  If  you  become  my 
wife,  you  will  have  to  appear  much  older  than  you  are,  if  you 
would  not  make  the  man  ridiculous  who  has  placed  his  name 
and  his  honor  in  your  hands !  I  am  more  to  be  pitied  than 
ever  now,  Mizi,  for  I  am  asking  so  much  of  you,  and  all  I 
have  to  give  in  exchange  is  a  tenderness  which  knows  no 
bounds." 

I  was  very  young,  as  he  said,  and  the  reflections  aroused  in 
my  mind  by  his  words  were  less  serious  than  the  decision  at 
which  I  arrived  in  consequence. 

Even  at  sixteen  I  had  seen  and  heard  enough,  perhaps 
too  much,  which  made  many  things  clear  to  me.  Consider- 
ing the  position  in  which  I  was  placed  I  was  kept  sur- 
prisingly innocent  by  a  natural  disposition  toward  virtue 
and  propriety,  but  I  saw  that  there  was  something  false  in 
my  mother's  position,  and  guessed  how  little  her  character 
and  surroundings  had  gained  for  her  true  respect.  My 
whole  soul  rebelled  against  the  situation,  when  to  my  great 
indignation  I  often  saw  my  mother  excluded  from  the  houses 
of  people  of  good  standing,  who  were  glad  to  receive  my 
father.  For  example,  he  had  acted  in  private  theatricals 
at  Comte  Greffulhes's,  and  we  were  not  even  invited  to 
see  a  performance  in  which  her  husband,  my  father,  took 
part !  Again,  it  happened  that  very  year  that  I  heard 
some  one  ask  with  a  sneer  if  M.  de  Brigode  was  running  after 


MEMOIRS  71 


the  mother  or  the  daughter?  .  .  .  Much  knowledge  of  the 
world  is  not  needed  when  one  has  good  common  sense,  and 
mine  proved  a  sufficient  guide.  .  .  .  What  could  I  do  alone 
in  our  disordered  existence?  It  was  absolutely  necessary  to 
shake  ourselves  free,  and  that  is  what  I  did  for  my  mother, 
for  our  future. 

I  told  M.  de  Brigode  that  far  from  being  alarmed  by  the 
difference  in  our  ages,  I  looked  upon  it  as  a  fortunate  circum- 
stance for  our  domestic  life,  and  1  authorized  him  to  ask  my 
hand  of  my  father.  I  only  begged  him  to  promise  to  show 
no  more  uneasiness  as  to  my  conduct,  for  I  now  considered 
myself  as  belonging  to  him. 

I  will  not  dwell  on  the  happiness  that  my  determination 
brought  him,  but  I  know  that  I  brightened  his  last  years  with 
all  the  confidence  and  filial  care  that  affection  can  bestow. 
It  is  sweet  to  think  that  I  made  him  perfectly  happy,  and  his 
memory  will  always  be  dear  and  sacred  to  me. 

My  father  was  as  much  astonished  as  if  M.  de  Brigode  had 
not  stayed  so  long  in  our  house  as  to  compromise  me.  He 
made  every  sort  of  objection,  which  was  finally  overcome  by 
a  settlement  on  me  of  forty  thousand  livres  a  year,  and  he 
tried  to  give  less  on  his  side,  calming  down  at  last  by  shaving 
something  off  my  dot,  and  consenting  to  the  marriage  in  the 
spring.  I  am  sure  it  was  with  a  mental  reservation  in  case 
no  more  eligible  offer  presented  itself  in  six  months. 

Offers  did  pour  in  of  all  sorts  and  kinds — a  procession  which 
would  have  been  funny  if  it  had  not  also  been  contemptible. 
According  to  the  expression  of  a  female  La  Rochefoucauld, 


72  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

the  entire  noble  Faubourg  came  to  see  if  the  pile  was  large 
enough !  My  charms  and  virtues  did  not  enter  into  the  ques- 
tion any  more  than  my  talents;  my  education  had  not  a 
feather's  weight,  either.  The  sight  of  our  fine  new  house 
made  the  bidders  at  this  matrimonial  auction  more  and  more 
eager,  and  I  felt  myself  lucky  to  escape  them.  But,  alas,  that 
winter  the  dots  and  dowries  came  within  a  hair's  breadth  of 
remaining  in  the  pockets  of  their  owners. 

The  dampness  of  the  long-unoccupied  rooms  gave  me  a 
frightful  cold,  which  I  neglected,  and  it  became  inflammation 
of  the  lungs;  in  a  few  days  I  was  at  death's  door.  It  would 
be  impossible  to  express  M.  de  Brigode's  agony;  to  break  for 
the  second  time  the  tie  that  bound  him  to  life  was  a  blow  that 
reopened  all  the  old  wounds  of  his  heart.  My  mother,  who 
had  completely  lost  her  head,  would  let  me  take  nothing  from 
the  doctors,  for  fear  of  its  doing  me  harm.  It  needed  all  the 
strength  of  youth  and  a  good  constitution  to  resist  the  crazy 
treatment  to  which  I  was  subjected.  My  aunts  insisted  on 
sitting  up  with  me;  everything  was  tried,  but  I  only  grew 
worse  .  .  .  till  at  last  the  Lord  sent  Doctor  Dupuytren,  who 
saved  my  life.  He  saw  at  once  that  the  treatment  was  all 
wrong  and,  as  he  knew  my  parents,  he  was  able  to  exert  his 
authority,  listen  to  no  one,  and  see  that  his  orders  were  car- 
ried out  exactly,  giving  me  with  his  own  hand  a  dose  of  bella- 
donna, the  good  effects  of  which  I  shall  always  remember. 
After  four  spoonfuls  I  slept  soundly  for  the  first  time  in  a 
week. 

My  poor  mother,  seeing  that  calm  had  suddenly  succeeded 


MEMOIRS  73 


to  my  previous  agitation,  tried  in  vain  to  wake  me,  thought 
I  must  be  dead,  and  shrieking  out  that  her  child  was  poisoned 
and  that  she  would  not  live  without  her,  she  swallowed  the 
whole  contents  of  the  bottle ! 

My  guardian  angel  must  have  been  watching  over  me,  and 
the  good  doctor  was  delighted  when  he  saw  my  mother 
stretched  out  on  her  bed  fast  asleep.  He  rubbed  his  hands 
and  said:  "The  best  thing  that  could  have  happened !  Now 
she  will  be  quiet  for  the  next  forty-eight  hours  at  least,  and 
we  shall  have  a  chance  to  save  her  daughter  in  peace;  but 
for  the  love  of  Heaven  let  no  one  wake  her  up !" 

Her  sleep  did  not  last  quite  long  enough,  unfortunately, 
for  two  days  after,  when  I  was  a  little  better,  my  poor  dear 
mother,  seeing  them  mix  a  mustard  plaster  for  me,  forgot 
that  "enough  is  as  good  as  a  feast,"  and  added  so  much  vine- 
gar and  mustard  that  in  two  minutes  she  burned  the  skin 
off.  .  .  .  I  shall  never  forget  the  pain  and  fever  that  re- 
sulted from  this  heroic  treatment;  I  could  get  no  rest  for 
many  nights,  in  spite  of  opiates,  and  I  swore,  now  that  it 
was  too  late,  that  I  would  never  again  trust  myself  to  ama- 
teur nursing. 

However,  after  all  this  I  did  get  well,  and  like  flowers  after 
a  hard  shower,  I  shone  all  the  more  for  the  storm,  fresher 
and  whiter  than  ever.  Feeling  now  sincerely  attached  and 
full  of  gratitude  to  the  man  who  had  declared  his  love  for  me 
in  such  moving  terms,  I  solemnly  promised  to  unite  my  bril- 
liant youth  to  M.  de  Brigode's  forty-eight  years. 

I  went  to  a  few  balls,  and  had  more  offers  of  marriage,  but 


74  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

I  do  not  remember  much  about  them,  as  they  came  from 
men  who  were  almost  strangers  to  me.     It  seemed  to  be  my 

fate  to  attract  middle-aged  men.    General  de  L was  one 

of  my  admirers,  and  if  I  had  chosen,  the  lovely  Delphine 
Gay  would  have  escaped  the  disappointment  she  afterward 
suffered  through  him.  He  was  a  tall,  splendid-looking  man, 
but  his  face  was  most  unprepossessing,  long  and  pale,  with 
a  cast  in  one  eye,  and  he  also  dyed  his  hair.  However,  he 
had  plenty  of  wit  and  sprightliness,  if  very  little  kindness  of 
heart — so  I  had  no  reason  to  be  proud  of  my  brilliant  con- 
quest. 

I  do  not  think  that  M.  de  Brigode  was  at  all  jealous  of  him, 
thought  unfortunately  he  lost  no  opportunity  of  being  so. 
In  spite  of  my  lack  of  coquetry  and  the  proof  I  had  given  of 
my  attachment,  I  often  saw  that  he  suffered  from  things  of 
which  he  did  not  dare  complain;  he  would  turn  pale  because 
I  laughed  at  a  story  of  Colonel  de  Backs;  and  then  there  were 
young  Comte  Roger,  the  Bassanos,  any  and  every  one. 
Comte  de  Thermes  especially  got  on  his  nerves,  though  by 
this  time  we  were  busy  with  my  trousseau,  which  was  nothing 
remarkable,  and  with  the  "corbeille"  which  he  made  me 
choose,  and  a  large  party  in  which  my  father  took  great  pride, 
and  on  which  he  spent  more  than  on  my  wedding  itself. 

One  day  there  drove  to  our  door  a  singular  equipage  like  a 
chariot  in  a  fairy-story,  and  out  of  it  got  a  little  hunchbacked 
dame  who  asked  to  see  my  father.  This  out-of-the-way  vehi- 
cle was  exactly  suited  to  the  oddly  dressed  old  dowager  who 
appeared  before  us — bringing  an  offer  of  marriage !    The  old 


MEMOIRS  15 


fairy  was  called  Madame  de  Clermont-Tonnere;  she  had  a 
son,  a  mirror  of  all  the  virtues,  whose  existence  she  wished 
to  gild  with  my  dot,  and  she  asked  leave  to  present  him,  per- 
suaded that  he  had  only  to  come,  be  seen,  and  conquer.  The 
two  first  were  granted  by  my  father,  partly  because  of  her 
name,  and  a  little  from  the  wish  to  see  what  sort  of  a  child 
could  belong  to  this  strange  creature,  who  talked  so  glibly 
of  marriage.  When  the  nodding  plumes  and  hood  that  cov- 
ered the  venerable  head-piece  of  the  countess  had  disap- 
peared into  the  weird  vehicle  which  had  brought  her,  we 
burst  out  laughing.  What  kind  of  a  monster  would  the  son 
be,  when  he  emerged  in  his  turn  from  the  shell,  and  how 
should  we  keep  our  countenance?  It  would  be  a  sight  worth 
paying  for !  .  .  .  We  were  all  very  witty,  and  made  no  end 
of  jokes  on  the  subject,  and  when,  two  days  after,  the  bony 
nags  were  again  driven  into  our  courtyard,  we  each  tried  to 
look  gravely  polite.  But  the  joke  was  turned  against  us  at 
the  sight  of  the  handsome,  well-bred  young  man,  who  respect- 
fully offered  his  hand  to  help  the  old  lady  out  of  her  shabby 
box,  with  a  modest  confidence  full  of  quiet  dignity.  No  one 
could  have  appeared  better  in  a  difficult  situation  than  M.  de 
Clermont-Tonnere  did  that  day;  rather  it  was  I  who  behaved 
foolishly;  for  I  am  ashamed  to  say  that  I  was  scarcely  civil. 
Half  vexed  that  our  joke  had  fallen  so  flat,  and  sorry  for  my 
poor  count,  who  found  the  truth  so  much  finer  than  the  ab- 
surdity he  had  expected,  all  I  know  is  that  I  remained  obsti- 
nately silent,  and  hardly  answered  when  spoken  to;  no  awk- 
ward schoolgirl  could  have  behaved  worse. 
The  day  of  the  grand  ball  came  at  last,  bringing  with  it  all 


76  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

the  annoyances  which  imprudent  hosts  draw  down  on  them- 
selves. 

People  whom  we  especially  wanted  refused  our  invitation, 
others  were  forgotten,  which  was  equally  annoying;  there 
were  extra  expenses  and  upsets  of  all  kinds  .  .  .  just  that 
people  should  criticise  and  perhaps  laugh  at  us  the  next  day ! 
Finally,  after  infinite  trouble,  the  rooms  were  lighted  up,  the 
band  in  place,  and  then  we  heard  the  first  carriages  drive 
into  the  court,  bringing  so  many  strangers  that  we  might 
have  asked  ourselves  why  on  earth  we  had  taken  so  much 
pains  for  people  we  cared  nothing  about ! 

One  of  the  pleasantest  things  I  remember  about  that  ball 
is  that  we  had  the  honor  to  receive  the  Due  de  Saxe-Cobourg, 
the  not-inconsolable  widower  of  the  Queen  of  England.  He 
enjoyed  himself  immensely,  and  spent  the  whole  evening  with 
one  fair  lady.  I  could  not  then  have  believed  that  he  would 
ever  be  my  king,  and  the  idea  of  his  being  King  of  the  Bel- 
gians or  of  my  becoming  one  of  his  subjects  would  have  been 
equally  surprising  to  us  both. 

He  thought  me  very  pretty,  and,  frankly,  I  must  admit 
that  he  was  right.  When  I  think  of  the  face  that  looked  out 
from  the  wreath  of  roses,  and  the  figure  set  off  to  the  great- 
est advantage  by  my  white  dress,  trimmed  with  the  same 
flowers,  I  cannot  help  knowing  that  nothing  more  lovely  was 
ever  seen,  or  more  carefully  guarded  than  I  was  during  ihat 
memorable  evening. 

From  that  day  my  marriage  was  no  longer  a  secret,  and 


MEMOIRS  77 


heavens !  what  an  amount  of  talk  there  was  about  it,  and  how 
many  stories  were  invented  about  this  ill-assorted  union. 

I  heard  nothing  of  all  this,  and  it  was  with  entire  confi- 
dence, without  the  least  doubt,  that  I  saw  the  day  approach. 
I  was  not  taken  unawares,  and  knew  what  probably  awaited 
me,  for  some  weeks  before  our  marriage  M.  de  Brigode  had  a 
sharp  attack  of  gout,  but  I  felt  no  inclination  to  draw  back. 
...  I  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  my  brother-in-law, 
whose  sneering,  somewhat  defensive  attitude  was  soon 
changed  to  confidence  and  friendship,  and  I  also  met  his 
excellent  wife,  whose  noble,  saintly  life  was  just  beginning; 
they  already  had  two  daughters,  who  are  now  dead. 

My  other  brother-in-law,  de  Kemlande,  came  to  see  me  in 
his  turn;  he,  too,  was  a  very  worthy  man,  for  whom  I  have 
always  had  a  sincere  affection,  which  extended  also  to  the 
children  of  both  families  for  their  fathers'  sakes. 

At  last  the  day  of  the  contract  arrived,  after  a  great  deal 
of  trouble,  my  father  having  raised  every  obstacle  he  could 
think  of,  but  they  were  all  surmounted,  and  on  Saturday, 
the  9th  of  April,  18 — ,  this  difficult  contract  was  signed,  and 
the  civil  marriage  took  place  the  same  evening  in  the  dry 
official  manner  which  men  have  invented  for  themselves 
alone. 

How  well  I  recollect  that  day,  and  how  long  ago  it  seems ! 
My  high  rose-colored  dress,  severely  plain,  and  my  childish 
objection  to  the  kiss  which  I  was  expected  to  give  my  hus- 
band as  a  legal  form;  however,  I  was  quite  ready  to  kiss  him 
as  soon  as  we  got  home,  rather  too  much  like  a  daughter,  I 


78  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

am  afraid,  but  with  my  arms  round  his  neck  and  a  heart  full 
of  affection. 

On  Monday,  the  nth,  I  was  married  at  the  Luxembourg, 
in  the  Chapel  of  the  Peers,  who  were  great  nobles  then,  and 
not  a  group  of  senators  as  mixed  as  the  Pharisees'  seed.  We 
had  intended  to  leave  that  night  for  Noisel,  but  some  one, 
perhaps  my  father,  objected;  I  attached  so  little  importance 
to  the  question  that  1  do  not  remember  much  about  it,  and 
busy  as  I  was  with  my  new  clothes  and  jewels,  I  scarcely  no- 
ticed the  annoyance  and  humiliation  of  my  poor  bridegroom, 
nor  the  way  in  which  my  father  laughed  at  his  youthful  ardor. 
I  had  not  interfered  with  plans  for  the  spring,  they  were  a 
matter  of  indifference,  and  my  life  did  not  appear  to  me  to 
have  undergone  a  change.  I  was  to  have  a^kinder  master, 
but  knew  nothing  of  his  rights  over  me;  all  that  was  arranged 
between  him  and  my  father;  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  it. 
What  a  funny  little  bride  I  must  have  been !  All  the  eve- 
ning my  husband  could  not  coax  me  away  from  my  packing 
and  arrangements,  and  at  last  he  had  to  say  good  night  sadly, 
and  took  himself  off  at  eleven  o'clock  to  his  bachelor  quar- 
ters, while  I  was  so  sleepy  I  could  hardly  wish  him  good 
night.  The  look  on  his  face  then  has  often  come  back  to  me, 
and  the  thought  of  it  always  makes  me  smile. 

I  was  glad  to  go  to  Noisel,  and  so  woke  up  in  a  happy 
frame  of  mind,  and  when  our  wagons  and  carriages  were 
ready  we  set  off,  encumbered  by  packages,  cages  of  canaries 
and  bullfinches,  and  also  by  two  cats,  much  too  well  bred  to 
trouble  their  fellow  travellers. 


MEMOIRS  79 


I  could  not  attempt  to  enumerate  or  describe  the  foolish 
things  that  I  did  in  those  first  days.  My  poor  husband  had 
need  of  great  patience  and  care  before  the  little  goose,  whom 
nevertheless  he  adored,  could  be  transformed  into  a  fairly 
reasonable  woman !  By  dint  of  indefatigable  kindness  he 
succeeded  in  the  difficult  task,  and  if  he  was  not  the  Pygma- 
lion to  animate  the  statue,  he  inspired  the  proper  and  affec- 
tionate feeling  with  which  she  always  regarded  him. 

The  initiation  into  the  mystery  of  life  demands  much  intel- 
ligence and  delicacy !  Understood  by  few,  though  the  future 
of  so  many  hangs  on  it  .  .  .  but  if  men  could  only  realize 
how  important  for  their  own  happiness  are  the  first  steps  of 
their  young  wives  and  how  gently  their  eyes  should  be  opened 
to  their  new  existence,  much  suffering  would  be  spared  and 
many  ties  respected. 

Far  from  dropping  at  once  all  modest  reserve  and  self- 
respect,  I  learned  that  Caesar's  wife  should  avoid  even  the 
appearance  of  suspicion;  and,  seeing  the  attitude  I  ought  to 
adopt,  1  understood  with  what  dignity  I  should  surround  my- 
self, and  the  price  necessary  to  be  paid  for  my  great  hope  and 
dream;  the  consideration  and  respect  of  the  world. 

To  my  best  friend  and  faithful  guide  1  can  say  that  I  trust 
he  has  seen  how  his  teachings  and  his  memory  are  enshrined 
in  my  heart.  To  him  I  owe  all  that  has  ever  been  praised  in 
me;  my  upright  and  irreproachable  life  and  my  old  age  hon- 
ored by  my  children. 

It  was  only  a  few  days  after  our  marriage  that  we  heard 
with  great  pain  that  our  friend  and  neighbor,  young  Count 


80  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

de  Las  Cases,  had  been  the  victim  of  an  attempted  assassina- 
tion. At  his  father's  door,  near  Passy,  two  men,  whom  he 
knew  for  ItaHans  from  their  speech  to  each  other,  threw 
themselves  upon  him,  and  he  only  had  time  to  parry  their 
blows  with  a  sword-cane  which  he  carried.  He  was  wounded 
in  the  thigh  and  in  the  breast,  which  might  have  been  mortal, 
but  fortunately  the  blade  was  turned  by  a  leather  case 
which  he  had  in  his  pocket — strangely  enough,  a  wedding- 
present  from  me.  In  this  way  he  escaped  with  only  a  bad 
bruise. 

The  trial  which  followed  was  one  mass  of  iniquity,  and 
clouded  by  a  disgraceful  party  spirit;  it  dragged  out  to  an 
interminable  length,  till  I  think  the  assassins  were  let  off 
without  any  punishment  at  all !  This  was  the  end  of  the 
famous  affair  with  Sir  Hudson  Lowe;  he  had  refused  to  fight, 
and  in  revenge  for  the  horse-whipping  he  received,  he  em- 
ployed the  dagger  of  a  common  bravo.  But  what  else  could 
you  expect  from  a  cowardly  Englishman,  the  jailer  of  St. 
Helena? 

We  spent  this  first  spring  after  our  marriage  at  Noisel,  only 
leaving  for  a  trip  to  the  Pyrenees.  I  shall  say  nothing  here 
of  what  is  called  a  "honeymoon,"  for  in  our  case  it  did  not 
shine  very  brightly.  Our  union  was  always  calm  and  sweet; 
if  our  joy  did  not  blaze  high  at  first,  neither  did  it  cool  off 
later;  we  were  loving  friends  from  the  very  beginning,  and 
such  we  remained  as  long  as  we  lived  together.  I  do  not  like 
moving  about,  and  so  our  journey  did  not  interest  me  much. 


MEMOIRS  81 


but  though  I  could  not  but  admire  the  wild  and  beautiful 
country  through  which  we  moved,  travelling  did  not  appeal 
to  me  then,  and  it  has  now  become  a  positive  dislike;  not  on 
account  of  the  fatigue — it  was  rather  a  natural  aversion. 

M.  de  Brigode  was  anxious  that  we  should  see  the  splendid 
mountain  scenery  in  which  he  delighted;  so  we  rode  a  great 
deal  on  horseback,  which  did  give  me  pleasure,  for  in  those 
days  nothing  tired  me.  We  passed  a  month  at  Bareges,  but 
as  my  husband  did  not  like  me  to  go  into  the  somewhat 
mixed  society  of  the  place,  we  kept  ourselves  apart,  so  that 
the  smart  young  men  hardly  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  lovely 
Comtesse  de  Brigode,  who  was  much  talked  about — a  fact  of 
which  she,  herself,  had  some  suspicion. 

There  is  not  much  for  me  to  tell  of  those  days.  I  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Colonel  de  Liscours,  a  distinguished  natural- 
ist, who  wanted  to  teach  me  botany.  We  lodged  in  the  same 
house  with  Madame  de  Coislin  and  her  daughter,  who  was 
thought  to  be  dying.  The  marquise  was  also  mother  to  that 
M.  de  Coislin  made  so  conspicuous  by  the  Comtesse  de  Con- 
tades;  then  I  also  used  to  see  at  a  distance  the  son  of  Marshal 
Maison,  Vicomte  Joseph,  with  his  drawing  portfolio  always 
strapped  to  his  back. 

Nothing  very  interesting  happened  to  us.  I  only  remem- 
ber that  one  night  I  was  waked  up  by  bits  of  plaster  falling 
on  my  head  from  the  ceiling,  and  hearing  outcries  from  one 
of  my  neighbors,  who  was  so  obliging  as  to  come  down  to  my 
room  from  the  floor  above;  however,  M.  de  Brigode  convinced 
him  that  nothing  was  the  matter.    There  was  also  a  disagree- 


82  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

able  episode  when  my  husband's  watch  was  stolen  at  a 
wretched  inn  near  the  Spanish  bridge;  the  chief  of  police  re- 
covered it  after  it  had  been  carried  off  into  Spain. 

When  we  left  Bareges  we  went  to  Bagneres-de-Bigorre,  and 
then  to  Toulouse,  where  it  was  so  hot  that  we  could  not  go 
to  see  anything,  so  that  I  have  but  little  recollection  of  a 
place  where  we  have  so  many  interests  now.  Like  the  child 
I  was,  I  looked  indifferently  at  the  fine  Languedoc  Canal,  a 
great  work  of  the  celebrated  Riquet,  *  and  then,  crossing  the 
province,  we  stopped  at  Montpellier,  to  visit  some  relations 
of  my  father — Comte  Richard,  a  peer  of  France,  his  mother, 
and  his  charming  daughter,  Lucie,  a  fair-haired,  graceful, 
fresh  young  girl.  Thirty  years  later  I  saw  her  again,  .  .  . 
but  how  sadly  faded  was  the  lovely  flower  of  youth !  In  its 
place  I  saw  a  provincial  old  lady,  badly  dressed,  dry  and  com- 
mon— ^well  up  on  the  market-price  of  provisions,  and  talking 
of  meat  and  vegetables.  Her  hat  was  the  worse  for  wear,  but 
not  more  so  than  the  head  it  covered. 

Though  my  mother  was  quite  worn  out  by  all  this  travel- 
ling, we  took  a  short  trip  in  Switzerland,  the  charms  of  which 
I  shall  always  remember  with  delight,  and  in  Geneva  we  saw 
again  my  old  godfather,  M.  de  Montonnat,  and  also  the 
beautiful  Delphine  Gay  and  her  mother,  who  were  in  the 
same  hotel  with  us.  At  last  we  had  to  leave  the  lovely  lake 
and  go  back  to  Paris,  where  we  were  greeted  with  the  sad 
news  of  my  poor  grandmother's  death,  which  touched  me 

*  Riquet,  constructor  of  the  Southern  canal,  made  Comte  Caraman 
by  Louis  XIV. 


MEMOIRS  83 


very  much.     It  was  the  first  death  in  our  family,  but  there 
have  been  many,  many  others  since! 

As  M.  de  Brigode  wished  to  introduce  me  to  his  family,  we 
set  out  for  Ammappes  early  in  November.  In  those  days 
there  were  no  railways  to  shorten  the  distance,  and  it  took 
three  days  to  reach  Ammappes,  over  a  dreary,  muddy  road, 
which  the  season  made  still  worse.  I  do  not  know  if  it  was 
a  presentiment,  or  the  thought  of  poor  Arthur,  whose  grave 
we  were  to  visit,  but  I  can  still  remember  the  painful  impres- 
sion made  on  me  by  this  journey.  Thus  far  I  had  had  no 
experience  of  sorrow,  but  I  felt  within  me  a  vague  apprehen- 
sion of  what  the  future  might  have  in  store  for  me. 

My  brother-in-law,  the  Baron  de  Brigode,  received  us  with 
the  utmost  kindness.  The  country  around  the  Chateau  of 
Ammappes  is  flat,  but  the  house  is  good  and  cheerful-looking, 
and,  like  all  places  in  the  north,  it  was  beautifully  clean.  We 
went  to  lunch  at  Luchen,  where  Comte  de  Kemlande  lived, 
and  saw  my  poor  sister-in-law,  Sylvie;  she  was  in  a  state  of 
extreme  nervous  prostration,  owing  to  the  death  of  her  daugh- 
ter Eus6bie;  later,  she  became  quite  insane.  Her  son  Ray- 
mond was  at  home,  but  the  younger  one,  Oscar,  was  studying 
at  Rollin. 

We  were  nearly  a  fortnight  at  Ammappes,  where  I  enjoyed 
seeing  Georgine  and  Gabrielle,  who  were  two  sweet  little  girls, 
now,  alas !  no  more.  Celestine,  my  sister-in-law,  was  expect- 
ing her  confinement,  and  my  husband  sighed  yet  longed  for 
the  dangerous  joy  of  paternity. 


84  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

We  came  back  to  Paris,  but  my  poor  grandmother  was  no 
longer  there;  she  had  died  of  a  stroke  of  apoplexy.  Thus 
time  had  done  its  cruel  work,  and  we  should  know  each  other 
no  more;  object  of  her  tender  care  as  I  had  been,  what  could 
I  give  in  return  ?    Only  remembrance ! 

Toward  the  end  of  November  I  found  that  my  prayers 
were  answered,  and  that  I  was  about  to  have  a  baby;  the 
great  joys,  cares,  and  consolations  of  motherhood  were  to 
come  into  my  life. 

I  did  not  look  upon  my  state  in  the  same  way  as  most 
young  women  of  my  age;  every  thought  and  feeling  turned 
toward  this  object,  beloved  and  longed  for,  though  still  un- 
known. I  resolved  to  be  his  mother  and  his  nurse;  he  should 
owe  me  everything,  and  be  all  in  all  to  me.  How  1  worked 
for  the  little  creature,  already  so  dear !  A  sweet  occupation 
was  now  to  fill  the  void  in  my  life,  which  I  felt,  without 
knowing  that  my  heart  had  yet  to  learn  how  much  it 
had  to  give.  I  thought  I  was  only  ignorant  of  maternal 
love. 

Being  so  absorbed  in  my  new  hopes,  I  could  see  nothing 
but  the  joy  that  was  to  light  my  future  as  a  mother,  and  had 
no  eyes  for  any  cloud  on  my  horizon.  The  storm,  however, 
hung  over  my  head,  and  the  fate  which  held  the  golden  thread 
of  a  dawning  life  hid  from  me  the  shears  that  menaced  the 
existence  of  him  who  was  at  the  same  time  husband  and 
friend. 

Toward  the  end  of  July  M.  de  Brigode's  health  began  to 


MEMOIRS  85 


give  us  great  uneasiness;  he  suffered  from  restlessness,  with 
severe  pain  and  loss  of  memory,  and  a  sort  of  dulness  came 
over  him.  He  was  carefully  treated  and  seemed  to  be  get- 
ting better,  when  the  premonitory  symptoms  of  my  confine- 
ment came  to  distract  the  attention  of  my  mother  and  the 
whole  household.  After  long  days  of  agony,  just  at  the  mo- 
ment that  was  to  compensate  me  for  all  that  I  had  endured, 
I  was  seized  with  violent  cerebral  convulsions,  so  that  my 
life  was  in  great  danger.  In  this  terrible  condition  and  com- 
pletely unconscious,  I  gave  birth  prematurely  to  two  little 
boys,  so  feeble  that  they  were  simply  wrapped  up  in  blankets, 
no  one  thinking  it  possible  to  save  their  lives !  I,  of  course, 
remember  nothing  of  this  forced  deliverance,  but  I  have  since 
heard  that,  supposing  me  to  be  dying,  they  covered  my  face 
with  a  sheet  to  spare  those  around  me  the  pain  of  witnessing 
my  last  convulsions. 

This  frightful  scene,  as  I  have  been  told,  was  the  death  of 
my  poor  husband,  who  had  an  apoplectic  stroke,  and  the  next 
day  became  partially  paralyzed.  My  little  twins  struggled 
through  in  spite  of  the  small  attention  paid  them,  and  when 
after  some  hours  I  recovered  consciousness,  I  was  so  ex- 
hausted that  I  took  the  news  of  my  double  maternity  with 
perfect  calmness. 

They  told  me  that  my  husband  had  one  of  his  attacks  of 
rheumatism,  and  I  was  so  much  taken  up  with  my  babies, 
and  too  inexperienced  to  feel  uneasy  ...  it  was  only  when 
I  was  able  to  get  up  and  saw  him  stretched  on  his  bed,  un- 
able to  move,  and  with  his  mind  so  much  affected  that  he 


86  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

answered  my  questions  at  random,  that,  though  I  did  not 
fully  comprehend  his  state,  I  was  terribly  shocked  and  over- 
come. 

The  doctors  recommended  the  waters  at  Bourbonne-les- 
Bains,  which  they  thought  would  be  beneficial  to  the  paraly- 
sis of  the  left  side,  which  was  complete;  and  at  last  this  plan 
was  spoken  of  to  me  as  a  certain  cure;  so  about  the  end  of 
August  my  husband  left,  but  in  a  most  pitiful  condition! 
He  was  now  a  helpless,  stupefied  old  man,  not  knowing  what 
he  said,  and  only  liking  to  move  about,  so  that  it  gave  him  a 
little  pleasure  to  see  post-horses  put  to  his  carriage,  and  to 
notice  the  bustle  caused  by  this  sad  journey. 

He  took  two  servants  with  him  and  Annette,  my  mother's 
maid,  who  had  had  a  good  deal  of  experience  of  sickness. 

It  was  my  father  who  made  all  these  arrangements,  for  I 
was  still  weak  from  my  confinement,  and,  besides,  was  so 
much  occupied  with  the  two  infants  that  I  could  only  pray 
for  my  poor  husband. 

I  can  still  see  the  dear  invalid  as  he  was  the  day  he  left, 
carried  on  a  mattress — his  feverish  impatience  and  abrupt 
good-byes,  then — that  last  look ! 

I  had  not  realized  how  little  he  understood,  so  I  wrote  to 
him  regularly,  receiving  a  few  illegible  lines  in  reply;  then 
came  news  which  they  thought  best  to  keep  from  me,  but 
which  were  so  grave  that  my  father  decided  to  go,  leaving  me 
a  prey  to  vague  presentiments.  In  the  evening  I  went 
down  to  my  mother's  rooms,  and  finding  her  awake  in  much 
anxiety  she  could  not  resist  my  questions,  and  told  me  of 


MEMOIRS  87 


my  husband's  dangerous  condition;  at  that  very  time,  as  we 
spoke  of  him,  he  had  already  ceased  to  breathe ! 

General  Belliard  came  to  break  the  fatal  news  to  us;  a  last 
violent  attack  had  killed  M.  de  Brigode,  who  expired  on  the 
22d  of  September,  leaving  me  a  widow  at  an  age  when  most 
women  are  not  yet  married.  1  was  a  mother,  also,  and  must 
attend  to  business  matters  and  be  the  guardian  of  my  two 
sons. 

Poor  babies,  how  much  care  they  needed!  They  had 
hardly  vitality  enough  between  the  two  of  them  for  one  child. 
The  oldest,  dear  little  Henry,  a  peer  of  France  in  a  bib,  had 
taken  cold,  I  may  say,  as  soon  as  he  came  into  this  world, 
during  the  excitement  caused  by  my  bad  confinement,  and 
was  so  delicate  that  he  seemed  every  moment  on  the  point 
of  following  his  poor  father. 

His  life  was  threatened  by  a  chronic  inflammation,  he  was 
too  weak  even  to  suck  like  his  brother,  so  that  his  wet-nurse 
had  to  drop  the  milk  into  his  mouth,  and  this  at  first  dis- 
agreed with  him,  as  the  woman  was  too  old.  I  engaged  an- 
other, about  my  own  age,  who  was  equally  unsatisfactory,  so 
after  two  months  I  decided  to  nurse  both  babies,  myself,  and 
thus  by  binding  myself  down  to  the  most  incessant  watchful- 
ness and  care,  I  succeeded  in  bringing  up  my  little  twins,  and 
bestowed  a  second  life  upon  them. 

I  cannot  describe  my  grief  and  desolation;  no  one  who  did 
not  understand  my  character  and  feelings  could  know  how 
the  whole  future  was  darkened  by  my  loss.  It  was  the  first 
time  that  I  had  come  face  to  face  with  a  real  sorrow.     My 


88  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

helper  and  friend,  he  who  had  changed  and  brightened  our 
whole  sad  life,  was  gone.  He  was  the  kindest,  most  amiable 
companion,  my  first  affection.  ...  I  did  not  know  or  be- 
lieve that  one  could  love  more,  or  in  a  different  way.  I  wept 
for  him  with  all  my  strength,  with  all  my  heart,  and  ever 
since  I  have  tried  to  follow  step  by  step  the  path  he  traced 
for  me,  his  memory  becoming  ever  dearer  and  more  sacred 
as  I  advanced  in  life. 

How  heavy  and  bitter  was  that  first  year,  how  full  of 
trouble!  My  delicate  children  so  difficult  to  bring  up, 
Henry's  constant  ailments,  the  mourning  which  surrounded 
everything  I  touched.  Oh,  what  a  winter !  My  poor  mother, 
who  would  let  any  one  rule  her,  was  so  weak  as  to  be  led  by 
her  maid,  who  had  more  influence  with  my  father  and  was 
better  treated  than  we  were.  She  made  the  worst  of  every- 
thing, could  manage  nothing;  she  shared  my  care  and  love, 
without  understanding  any  more  than  I  how  children  should 
be  brought  up,  while  every  day  showed  me  the  extent  of  my 
ignorance  and  how  destitute  I  was  of  any  one  on  whom  I 
could  depend. 

I  have  not  spoken  of  the  little  trips  which  I  had  made  with 
M.  de  Brigode,  which  were,  for  the  most  part,  uninteresting; 
but  1  must  now  mention  that  we  went  to  M6nars,  which  did 
not  then  seem  so  beautiful  to  me  as  I  have  since  thought  it, 
but  the  charming  situation  of  the  chateau,  the  park  or 
"chase,"  all  walled  in,  pleased  my  husband  so  much  that  he 
longed  to  own  this  fine  property.  He  never  saw  it  again, 
and  only  signed  the  deed  of  purchase  a  few  days  before 


MEMOIRS  89 


he  went  to  Bourbonne;  I  went  there  alone  to  take  posses- 
sion! 

Toward  the  month  of  May  my  mother,  the  two  children, 
and  I  set  out  on  our  journey;  it  took  then  fifteen  hours  and 
much  fatigue  to  get  to  a  place  which  can  be  reached  now 
easily  in  four;  so  it  was  late  in  the  evening  when  we  arrived. 
...  It  was  all  dreary  and  depressing  and  nothing  in  order, 
for  I  did  not  know  any  more  than  my  poor  mother  did,  how 
to  keep  house,  make  arrangements,  or  send  servants  on  ahead 
to  clean  and  put  things  in  their  places;  so  nothing  had  been 
thought  of,  the  beds  were  not  even  made,  and  the  sight  of  the 
desolate,  dreary  chateau  struck  a  chill  to  our  hearts,  already 
sad  enough. 

If  it  had  not  been  for  my  little  twins  I  would  have  gone 
straight  back  again,  and  it  took  several  days  before  I  could 
pluck  up  courage  to  get  used  to  a  place  which  I  have  since 
learned  to  love  so  much  .  ,  .  which  I  shall  always  love, 
because  it  speaks  to  me  of  the  past,  of  those  bright  days 
of  love  and  joy;  but  how  far  I  was  at  first  from  the  thought 
of  that  future,  which  is  now  a  reality  and  a  recollection ! 

I  established  myself  as  well  as  1  could  in  the  wing  of  the 
house  which  my  mother  occupies  now,  my  curtainless  bed 
placed  between  the  two  cradles,  the  nurses  in  the  comers. 
Everywhere  I  went  I  took  the  baby-carriage  with  my  two 
boys,  pushed  by  a  footman,  and  when  they  were  asleep  I 
took  up  my  embroidery,  for  my  husband  had  taught  me 
never  to  be  idle,  and  to  him  1  owe  the  knowledge  of  how  to 
occupy  my  sad  solitude.    As  my  mother  had  sent  for  one  of 


90  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

her  sisters,  I  gave  embroidery  lessons  to  Aunt  Ismenie;  my 
duties  filled  all  my  thoughts,  and  my  life  was  really  that  of  a 
recluse.  The  only  event  was  the  baptism  of  my  children;  the 
Comte  de  Kemlande,  my  husband's  elder  brother,  and  my 
mother  were  the  godparents.  All  the  grand  arrangements 
we  had  made  for  the  ceremony  were  spoiled  by  the  stupidity 
of  the  clergyman.  He  poured  so  much  water  on  my  poor, 
delicate  little  Henry  that  he  sent  the  child  into  fits  of  cry- 
ing, and  we  were  obliged  to  take  him  out  and  resume  this 
unfortunate  baptismal  ceremony  in  the  afternoon.  Oscar 
came  with  his  father,  and  somehow  managed  to  amuse  him- 
self so  much  that  thirty  years  after  he  still  talked  of  it. 

The  excitement  about  the  christening  had  scarcely  sub- 
sided when  a  question  arose  in  connection  with  the  Duchesse 
de  Berry's  visit  to  Chambord,  which  was  soon  to  take  place. 
I  was  requested  to  entertain  the  princess,  and,  accordingly,  I 
invited  her  to  luncheon,  which  she  was  graciously  pleased  to 
accept,  and,  though  1  was  in  no  mood  for  this  unexpected  re- 
ception, we  began  our  preparations,  in  which  my  father  gave 
his  assistance. 

Our  task  was  an  exceedingly  difficult  one,  for  the  chateau 
was  not  then,  as  now,  magnificently  fitted  up,  inside  and  out. 
There  were  not  even  parquet  floors  in  my  wing  of  the  house, 
the  terrace  wall  was  broken,  so  whenever  it  rained  the  three 
rooms  that  opened  on  it  were  flooded;  the  dirt  and  disorder 
may  be  imagined !  We  had  to  stop  up  the  holes,  mend  the 
curtains,  and  generally  make  the  drawing-rooms  where  we 
were  to  receive  look  as  well  as  possible.    A  seventeen-year- 


MEMOIRS  91 


old  hostess,  good  intentions,  and  a  good  lunch  were  all  we 
had  to  offer.  We  took  a  drive  on  the  terraces  afterward  in  a 
four-horse  carriage,  which  was  as  much  as  my  deep  mourning 
permitted  me  to  do  in  the  way  of  amusement. 

My  father  had  been  a  great  help,  as  he  was  sure  to  be  in 
anything  that  catered  to  his  vanity;  but  when  the  party  was 
over  he  relapsed  into  his  habitual  manner,  cross  and  hard  to 
get  on  with. 

This  first  year  was  so  monotonous  that  I  have  really  noth- 
ing to  say  about  it,  and  the  only  thing  that  I  can  remember 
is  the  meeting  with  our  dear  Doctor  Desfray.  Little  Henry 
had  been  feverish,  and  as  I  did  not  myself  know  what  to  do, 
I  asked  M.  Bellanger,  the  mayor  of  our  village,  to  give  me 
the  name  and  address  of  the  best  doctor  in  Blois. 

I  sent  the  carriage  for  him;  and  I  cannot  help  smiling  even 
now  at  the  poor  doctor's  embarrassment,  for  when  he  saw 
two  nursing  babies,  he  took  my  mother  for  the  young  count- 
ess, and  looked  upon  me  as  a  child;  he  could  not  get  it  into 
his  head  that  I  was  married,  and  it  took  us  an  hour  to  con- 
vince him  that  I  was  widow,  mother,  and  wet-nurse ! 

I  had  called  in  a  doctor,  but  when  he  came  he  proved  to 
be  a  friend  who  will  always  be  dear  to  me. 

As  I  have  said,  it  is  useless  to  dwell  on  that  year,  so  empty 
yet  filled  with  grief  and  worries,  but  I  bore  them  all,  seeing 
my  two  little  boys  grow  and  prosper,  as  I  thought;  for  never 
having  seen  other  children,  1  did  not  know  that  mine  were 
backward.    Occasionally   1   would  meet  a  happy    mother 


92  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

whose  baby  at  four  months  old  was  bigger  than  mine  at  a 
year;  but,  like  the  owl,  whom  I  resembled  in  this  respect 
only,  my  twins  seemed  to  me  the  finest  children  in  the 
world. 

My  great  joy  was  to  dress  them  alike,  all  in  white  like  the 
Virgin,  to  whom  they  were  dedicated;  every  one  said  they 
were  pretty,  and  by  this  time  they  began  to  speak,  and  soon 
would  be  walking.  ...  I  thought  of  nothing  else,  and  lived 
only  for  them. 

The  next  winter  was  nearly  as  sad  as  the  summer,  for  Bar- 
oness d'Amaud,  one  of  my  aunts,  had  lost  her  little  girl, 
which  we  all  felt  deeply,  so  it  was  only  in  the  spring,  eighteen 
months  after  my  husband's  death,  that  I  took  the  mourning 
off  the  carriage  and  allowed  a  touch  of  color  on  the  servants' 
black  coats.  I  put  on  half-mourning  myself,  and  drove 
with  my  children  in  a  landau  with  four  horses,  two  men  be- 
hind us,  so  that  when  we  got  out  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne, 
they  could  carry  the  dear  little  boys. 

Though  I  no  longer  shut  myself  up  as  I  did  at  first,  I  saw 
very  few  people,  and  never  received  men  in  my  own  house. 
There  was  the  Marquis  d'Angosse,  a  friend  of  M.  de  Bri- 
gode's,  who  was  very  sweet  to  me,  and  my  old  ally.  Las 
Cases;  these  I  saw  from  time  to  time,  and  occasionally  an 
acquaintance  would  come  to  see  me,  but  not  very  often,  and 
most  people  thought  that  I  led  a  dreary  life.  My  children 
took  up  all  my  time,  and  they  were  so  often  ailing  that  amuse- 
ment of  any  sort  was  impossible  for  me. 

Henry  was  so  frequently  ill  that  I  held  him  constantly  in 


MEMOIRS  93 


my  arms,  but  little  Fernand  was  more  healthy,  so  much 
gayer  and  brighter,  that  he  was  my  mother's  favorite.  I 
was  anxious  to  get  them  into  the  country  air  at  Menars,  so 
we  went  there  in  the  month  of  May,  and  this  time  I  moved 
into  my  new  rooms.  I  took  my  own  maid,  who  was  married 
and  going  to  have  a  baby;  we  left  old  Olivier,  a  good  sick- 
nurse,  in  Paris,  and  had  Victorine  and  another  girl  to  help  us 
in  her  place.  This  time  I  made  some  visits  at  Blois  and  saw 
a  few  people,  among  others  an  old  acquaintance  of  my 
father's.  General  de  Preval,  who  was  living  at  Beauregard, 
his  country-seat;  he  introduced  us  to  his  three  daughters, 
only  one  of  whom,  the  eldest,  was  married.  The  house  was 
running  over  with  youth  and  gaiety,  and  there  was  dancing 
on  the  least  provocation.  Here  I  was  welcomed  with  open 
arms,  and  we  exchanged  dinners,  which  always  ended  up 
with  a  waltz  or  country-dance;  they  acted  charades,  also, 
and  after  much  entreaty  I  ended  by  taking  my  place  in  this 
gay  circle,  where  I  was  the  youngest  but  much  the  most 
serious.  We  had  also  a  visitor,  a  young  man  whom  I  had 
seen  at  Bareges,  and  who  my  father  had  brought  to  my 
house  in  Paris,  but  without  his  making  much  impression  on 
me.  He  was  the  youngest  son  of  Marshal  Maison,  and,  be- 
sides, possessed  a  fine  figure  and  a  pretty  talent  for  painting, 
to  mark  him  off  from  the  vulgar  herd.  When  he  arrived  he 
asked  if  he  might  stay  to  dinner,  but  he  ended  by  stopping 
with  us  ten  days,  stating  that  he  was  on  his  way  to  the 
Duchesse  D^cazes's,  but  after  twenty-four  hours  it  was  clear 
to  me  that  I  was  his  object.    Our  life  was  so  dull  that  any 


94  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

one  stood  a  good  chance  who  came  to  break  the  monotony, 
and  I  had  forgotten  my  age  and  my  looks  for  so  long  that  I 
felt  grateful  to  a  man  who  reminded  me  of  them. 

I  therefore  welcomed  this  fine  young  man  hospitably;  he 
was  reserved,  polite,  and  of  the  most  elegant  appearance,  but 
he  set  himself  to  work  at  once,  and  it  would  seem  only  lin- 
gered on  till  his  picture  should  be  finished;  but  my  mother's 
excitement  soon  opened  my  eyes  to  the  impropriety  of  keep- 
ing our  guest  longer.  She  could  not  understand  that  I  was 
careless  and  indifferent,  and  that  1  could  see  a  young  man 
without  falling  in  love  with  him,  only  the  life  I  led  was  too 
sad  and  strict  for  my  age.  My  evenings  were  unbearably 
dull,  and  by  way  of  filling  up  the  time,  I  had  hit  upon  the 
idea  of  giving  writing  lessons  to  the  maids;  one  of  the  foot- 
men asked  as  a  favor  to  be  included  in  the  lessons,  and  the 
wish  to  learn  spreading  through  the  house,  I  soon  had  a  regu- 
lar school,  and  some  of  my  pupils  made  such  good  progress 
as  to  encourage  me  to  continue.  My  class  was  not  neglected 
even  when  I  had  guests  in  the  house,  for  I  corrected  the  exer- 
cises after  going  to  my  room.  One  evening  while  M.  de 
Maison  was  with  us,  the  door  opened  suddenly,  and  there 
stood  my  mother  in  her  dressing-gown,  a  candle  in  her  hand, 
evidently  expecting  to  take  me  by  surprise.  She  rather  lost 
countenance  as  she  saw  me  quietly  seated  in  the  room  beside 
the  nursery,  where  the  children  were  asleep,  busy  in  setting 
examples  for  five  or  six  of  my  scholars. 

I  understood,  and  words  fail  me  to  tell  how  deeply  I  was 
hurt.     I  asked  to  be  told  how  I  had  deserved  such  a  suspi- 


MINIATURE  OF  NAPOLEON,  FOR  WHICH  THE 

EMPEROR  SAT 

Given  by  him  to  Madame  de  Pellapra 


BRACELET  GIVEN  BY  THE  EMPEROR  TO  MADAME  DE  PELLAPRA  IN  1815 


I 


MEMOIRS  95 


cion.  Why  should  any  one  suppose  that  I  would  admit  to 
my  apartment,  and  in  secret,  a  young  man  almost  a  stranger 
to  me?  What  folly  did  she  attribute  to  me?  Love?  If  I 
had  felt  it,  I  declared,  I  would  have  avowed  it  in  the  light  of 
day.  ...  I  was  free,  and  much  too  proud  to  stoop  to 
conceal  anything,  and  take  my  servants  into  my  con- 
fidence! 

Nevertheless,  this  episode  having  opened  my  eyes,  I  soon 
found  a  polite  excuse  for  sending  my  admirer  back  to 
Paris. 

While  my  aunts,  Celanire  and  Amable,  were  staying  with 
us  that  autumn,  we  had  several  visitors.  Our  kind  doctor 
brought  his  daughter,  who  afterward  married  M.  de  Lamar- 
lier;  my  friend  Las  Cases  came  also,  on  his  way  from  the 
springs  where  he  had  gone  to  recover  from  the  attack  upon 
him;  then  came  young  M.  Bellanger,  who  had  all  the  brains 
of  his  family,  and  the  Count  and  Countess  de  Lezay,  prefect 
of  the  department,  and  his  wife,  as  well  as  some  people  from 
Blois.  One  day  our  neighbor,  Comte  de  Montalivaux,  ar- 
rived with  his  son  Henry,  a  young  field-officer,  handsome  as 
a  god.  From  his  father's  appearance  I  was  quite  unprepared 
for  the  good  looks  of  our  visitor,  and  he  was  equally  surprised 
to  see  such  a  widow  as  I  was.  He  persuaded  his  father  to 
prolong  his  visit,  and  somehow  made  my  mother  ask  him  to 
come  again  by  himself. 

When  he  returned  Amable  was  with  me,  and  here  was  a 
fresh  charm  and  surprise,  for  at  that  time  she  was  astonish- 


96  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

ingly  beautiful !  The  spot  where  we  were  became  a  Ma- 
hometan's paradise  for  the  young  officer.  He  could  not  tear 
himself  away  .  .  .  and  when  a  terrible  thunder-storm  came 
up,  my  mother,  who  was  much  attracted  by  him,  urged  him 
to  stay.  He  was  a  perfect  fascinator  whom  few  could  resist, 
and  she,  who  was  so  hard  on  poor  Maison,  did  everything 
to  throw  M.  de  Montalivaux  in  my  way. 

It  was  the  opinion  of  a  great  philosopher  that  the  right 
way  to  save  a  drowning  woman  is  to  pull  her  in  against  the 
stream,  owing  to  the  contradictory  nature  of  females,  and 
though  I  do  not  think  that  my  poor  mother  could  have  relied 
on  so  serious  an  explanation,  she  certainly  acted  in  the  man- 
ner advised  by  the  philosopher,  and  her  enthusiasm  for  the 
captivating  Henry  put  me  completely  on  my  guard  against 
this  heart-breaker,  with  his  white  teeth  and  melting  blue 
eyes.  We  accepted  his  attentions,  put  him  through  all  his 
agreeable  paces,  and  then,  once  out  of  sight,  he  was  soon 
banished  from  our  memories  also.  We  had  a  ball,  for  which 
we  embroidered  our  muslin  dresses  with  branches  of  coral 
worked  in  red  worsted — a  long-remembered  success — and 
after  this  my  aunts  left  for  Paris,  where  we  followed  them 
in  a  few  days. 

When  we  got  back  to  town  we  found  that  there  was  a  mar- 
riage proposed  for  my  young  aunt  Amable;  which  had  been 
arranged  by  Monsieur  Kesner,  my  kind  fellow  godparent, 
after  a  good  deal  of  trouble.  He  took  us  all  to  the  Opera 
Comique  one  evening,  and  there  we  met  this  M.  de  Graeb,  a 
middle-aged  man,  who  looked  as  if  he  would  make  a  tolerable 


MEMOIRS  97 


husband,  that  is,  for  a  young  lady  without  a  dot.  Poor  Ama- 
ble  had  seen  a  young  man  at  her  sister's  house  who  seemed 
very  much  attracted  by  her,  and,  besides,  she  could  not  get 
that  hero  of  romance,  the  Comte  de  Montalivaux,  out  of  her 
head.  The  contrast  was  painful  between  the  brilliant  but- 
terfly of  Madame's  balls  and  the  stiff,  formal  under-commis- 
sary;  and  though  she  did  not  dare  to  say  anything,  she  looked 
doleful  enough.  It  took  a  great  deal  of  good  advice  and  argu- 
ment to  induce  her  to  accept,  and  her  future  husband's  court- 
ship was  by  no  means  graciously  received;  she  avoided  him 
as  much  as  possible,  and  was  so  cold  and  shy  that  no  one 
could  have  imagined  that  the  time  would  come  when  she 
would  play  the  part  of  Andromache  in  the  most  exaggerated 
manner.  .  .  . 

While  my  aunts  were  trying  to  raise  some  enthusiasm  in 
their  young  sister,  and  make  the  torch  of  Hymen  blaze  a  lit- 
tle, I  ventured  to  show  myself  out-of-doors  after  my  children 
were  in  bed.  I  went  sometimes  to  the  theatre,  and  two  or 
three  times  to  balls  at  Court,  where  the  King  made  me  very 
welcome;  also  to  the  Duchesse  d'Orleans's,  who  was  so  kind 
as  to  praise  my  life  and  conduct  in  a  way  as  flattering  as  it 
was  deserved.  I  saw  my  admirer  Maison  there  again,  and 
when  he  came  up  to  bow  to  me,  M.  de  Montalivaux  stepped 
before  him  and  offered  me  his  arm !  I  smoothed  over  mat- 
ters between  them  by  clinging  to  the  old  Marquise  d'Aignan, 
who  was  glad  to  be  my  chaperon,  as  she  delighted  in  my  com- 
fortable carriage,  the  attentions  which  I  showed  her,  and  the 
crowd  of  young  men  who  flocked  about  her. 

That  evening  at  the  Palais  Royal  was  particularly  pleasant 


98  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

to  me,  for  to  be  praised  by  Marie-Amelie  was  delightful  flat- 
tery; I  was  gratified  that  she  should  know  that  I  was  a  wise, 
good  mother,  and  compliment  me  in  public,  and  proud  of  the 
approbation  of  this  virtuous  princess;  in  the  joy  of  my  heart 
I  said  to  my  mother:  "There  is  a  woman  who  deserves  a 
crown !" 

It  was  a  foolish  thing  to  wish  for  her !  Poor  queen !  there 
were  thorns  enough  in  the  one  she  wore,  and  she  must  often 
have  regretted  the  time  when  she  was  Duchesse  d'Orleans. 
But  I  wished  her  happiness  in  return  for  what  she  gave  me; 
my  dream  of  being  respected  had  come  true.  I  had  not 
struggled  in  vain,  and  I  was  a  happy  woman  when  I  went 
home  that  night. 

On  a  cold,  dreary  day,  early  in  the  year  1830,  Amable  was 
married.  The  sun  refused  to  smile  on  this  loveless  union, 
and  to  make  it  worse,  when  we  arrived  at  the  Church  of  St. 
Thomas,  it  was  still  draped  in  black  for  a  funeral.  It  was 
freezing  cold,  and  we  could  see  my  old  grandfather  shivering 
under  his  black-silk  skull-cap.  The  atmosphere  affected 
Amable  so  much  that  as  soon  as  we  got  home  after  the  cere- 
mony she  dragged  me  into  her  room,  tore  off  her  bridal 
wreath,  and  fell  into  a  sort  of  nervous  fit  that  looked  very 
like  despair !  So  that  it  was  only  with  the  utmost  difficulty 
that  we  could  calm  her  and  raise  her  spirits  a  little.  My 
mother  took  my  place  at  the  wedding  dinner,  for  I  had  to 
stay  with  the  children,  and  had  nothing  to  do,  I  am  glad  to 
say,  with  putting  the  bride  to  bed. 


MEMOIRS  99 


I  was  scarcely  up  the  next  morning  when  they  came  and 
told  me  that  M.  de  Graeb  wanted  to  speak  to  me,  and,  rather 
surprised,  I  went  down  to  see  the  bridegroom,  whose  gloomy 
countenance  prepared  me  for  something  disagreeable,  but, 
none  the  less,  I  cannot  help  laughing  when  I  think  of  his  ex- 
pression of  dismay,  and  the  impossible  questions  he  showered 
on  me. 

His  misfortune  was  not  serious,  but  he  took  it  very  much 
to  heart;  my  poor  little  aunt  had  behaved  childishly;  inex- 
perienced and  frightened  as  she  was,  she  had  screamed  for 
help,  so  as  to  rouse  the  whole  house.  I  laughed  at  his  griev- 
ance, and  sent  him  to  my  mother  to  finish  his  confidences, 
for,  unfortunately,  I  had  not  time  after  that  to  think  much 
about  them. 

Every  one  who  saw  that  cruel  winter  must  remember  the 
deep  snow  and  piercing  cold.  The  Seine  was  frozen  for  three 
months,  so  that  carriages  could  drive  across  on  the  ice.  In 
those  days  it  was  impossible  to  keep  out  the  cold  in  such 
weather;  there  were  no  furnaces  to  heat  the  houses,  which 
were  simply  freezing  at  night,  in  spite  of  all  the  fires  we 
kept  up. 

Nearly  every  one  who  was  ill  or  subject  to  inflammation 
succumbed  to  this  terrible  weather,  and  my  fate  was  to  suf- 
fer another  heavy  loss.  My  poor  little  Fernand,  the  stronger 
of  the  twins,  on  whom  every  one  counted,  while  Henry's  case 
was  thought  hopeless  by  all — my  dear  little  boy  fell  ill  sud- 
denly one  evening  of  a  violent  fever.    The  best  doctor  of  the 


100  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

day,  M.  Geradin,  was  hastily  called  in;  he  looked  at  the 
child,  shook  his  head,  ordered  leeches,  and  went  away,  leav- 
ing us  to  follow  his  prescriptions,  which  did  little  good,  for 
toward  midnight  my  child  was  seized  with  a  horrible  convul- 
sion.   Oh,  can  I  ever  forget  that  sight ! 

I  was  sitting  on  a  chair  with  my  head  leaning  against  the 
foot  of  my  bed,  and  had  closed  my  eyes  for  a  moment,  when 
I  was  waked  by  a  violent  start  from  my  mother,  who  was 
holding  Fernand  on  her  knees.  The  poor  child  was  rigid  -his 
little  arms  were  twisted,  and  his  mouth  drawn,  so  that  his 
pretty  face  was  almost  unrecognizable !  And  this  lasted  all 
night,  in  spite  of  all  that  the  doctors — ^who  never  left  him — 
could  do.  My  tears,  my  agonized  prayers  and  entreaties 
were  in  vain;  he  grew  steadily  worse,  and  there  under  my 
eyes  I  saw  my  darling  little  boy  struggling  against  this  mys- 
terious disease,  which  was  rapidly  killing  him. 

My  breaking  heart  told  me  that  it  was  all,  all  useless,  and, 
crushed  by  terror  and  pain,  suffering  acutely,  but  yet  with  a 
kind  of  dull  resignation,  I  pressed  a  kiss  on  the  brow  of  my 
dying  child,  as  I  murmured,  "Give  this  to  your  father !"  and 
then,  almost  distracted,  I  left  the  room  where  lay  the  corpse 
of  my  boy. 

They  led  me  to  my  father's  rooms,  where  my  mother  was 
screaming  hysterically,  but  I  was  in  a  sort  of  frozen  stupor, 
and  could  only  walk  up  and  down;  feeling  seemed  dead 
within  me,  and  yet  there  was  a  stifling  oppression  on  my 
heart,  an  agony  of  suffering;  it  is  all  a  blank — my  mind  was 
overwhelmed  by  pity,  memories  ...  I  do  not  know  how  I 


MEMOIRS  101 


bore  it  all.  Ah,  what  anguish  I  suffered,  and  through  the 
black  cloud  that  hung  over  me  only  a  few  things  stand  out 
distinctly  in  flashes  of  recollection. 

The  morning  after  this  horrible  day,  I  remember,  poor 
Amable  came  into  my  room;  she  looked  so  pale  and  changed, 
it  was  as  if  I  saw  my  own  face  in  a  glass.  They  had  been 
about  to  leave,  and  she  begged  her  husband  to  let  her  stay 
with  us,  but  we  would  not  consent  to  ask  such  a  sacrifice  of 
him.  Poor  woman !  she  also  was  to  know  the  meaning  oi 
grief. 

A  nervous  fever  brought  on  a  complete  breakdown  and  I 
was  seriously  ill,  suffering  torments,  mentally  and  physi- 
cally. 

The  day  after  his  brother  died  Henry  fell  sick  in  his  turn, 
and  I  thought  that  I  was  to  lose  them  both,  and  prayed  to 
God  to  take  me  also,  but  M.  G6radin  assured  me  that  he 
was  only  overexcited  and  would  be  better  the  next  day.  He 
was  old  enough  to  understand  and  be  frightened  by  the  sad- 
ness around  him,  and  I  was  warned  that  his  health  depended 
largely  upon  my  courage.  God  knows  1  had  courage  enough ! 
More  than  I  could  have  thought  possible,  but  strength  comes 
as  long  as  one  has  anything  to  love. 

Henry  was  always  weak  and  ailing,  but  he  did,  in  fact,  get 
through  that  hard  January  better  than  we  expected,  and  as 
I  lay  on  my  sofa,  slowly  regaining  strength,  he  would  try  to 
amuse  himself  by  my  side,  but  it  was  torture  to  hear  him 
call  his  brother.  He  was  so  used  to  be  near  him,  to  eat  with 
him,  that  he  missed  him  at  every  turn.    They  tried  to  keep 


102  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

him  away  from  me,  but  when  from  one  room  to  the  other  I 
heard  him  calHng,  I  could  only  answer  by  my  tears. 

The  winter  passed  in  this  way;  occasionally  some  friend 
would  take  pity  on  me  and  try  to  distract  me  a  little.  I  was 
grateful  for  their  kindness  and  would  look  and  talk.  I  was 
young  and  life  revived  in  me,  but  I  was  sick  at  heart. 

The  Goubaut  girls  brought  hats  to  trim,  hoping  to  amuse 
me,  and  poor  Las  Cases,  too,  was  most  kind,  but  1  could  not 
be  said  to  receive  my  friends;  I  only  let  them  come.  Little 
by  little  some  few  people  began  to  drop  in,  and  as  the  cold 
diminished  and  winter  passed  away  my  physical  condition 
improved. 

Henry  had  a  bad  attack  of  croup,  which  frightened  me  ter- 
ribly, but  it  did  not  last  long,  and  he  was  better  the  next 
day,  when  my  mother  was  suddenly  called  for,  as  her  father 
was  very  ill.  We  had  to  wake  her  and  send  her  away  as 
quickly  as  possible,  but  as  she  did  not  come  back  to  luncheon 
I  sent  to  inquire,  and  was  told  that  my  grandfather  was  still 
unconscious.    A  sad  mistake !  for  he  was  dead ! 

My  poor  mother  was  brought  home  to  me  utterly  pros- 
trated by  this  fresh  and  unexpected  blow,  but  overcome  as 
she  was,  the  loss  of  our  little  boy  had  so  deadened  her  capacity 
for  suffering  that  now  she  felt  less,  owing  to  what  she  had 
previously  gone  through. 

As  for  me,  I  did  not  enter  deeply  into  this  new  sorrow.  I 
sympathized  with  my  aunts,  but  I  had  been  aware  for  a  long 
time  that  my  grandfather's  mind  was  failing,  and  so  was  not 


MEMOIRS  103 


taken  by  surprise;  and  then  we  had  never  been  on  particu- 
larly affectionate  terms;  I  wore  mourning,  of  course,  but  it 
could  not  add  much  to  what  1  wore  already,  and  as  spring 
approached  Henry  improved  so  much  that,  as  was  natural  at 
my  age,  life  once  more  began  to  have  some  charm  for  me. 

It  had  long  been  clear  to  every  one  but  myself  that  it  was 
my  duty  to  form  new  ties;  for  at  twenty  years  of  age  how 
could  1  be  expected  to  renounce  the  hope  of  any  future  hap- 
piness ?  So  every  one  around  me  talked  of  my  remarriage, 
and  each  day  added  to  a  list  of  names,  to  which  I  paid  very 
little  attention. 

Men  whom  I  met  at  my  father's  surrounded  me  with  at- 
tentions, and  others  asked  to  be  admitted  to  our  acquain- 
tance; parents  coveted  this  glittering  prize,  much  more  than 
the  first  time,  for  those  who  had  never  thought  of  Mile,  de 
Pellapra  now  sought  the  lovely  Comtesse  de  Brigode;  some 
were  subjugated  by  my  charms,  others  wished  to  console  me 
and  share  in  my  griefs;  my  prudence,  my  maternal  love,  my 
patience  and  manner  of  living — all  were  extolled  to  the  skies. 
It  was  a  perfect  concert  of  flattery,  but  doubtless  the  chimes 
would  not  have  rung  so  loud  if  the  bell  had  not  been 
gilded. 

Once  again  I  encountered  the  old  Comtesse  de  Clermont- 
Tonnerre,  but  this  time  she  did  not  plead  the  cause  of  her 
son — now  married  and  a  father;  she  came  to  speak  for  one 
of  her  friends. 

I  will  not  attempt  to  enumerate  the  offers  1  received  dur- 
ing the  next  three  months.     I  will  only  say  that  the  most 


104  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

ardent  of  my  suitors  were  those  who  had  the  least  chance  of 
success:  Maison,  Montalivaux,  Charles  de  Lagrange — "more 
in  love  than  ever !"  as  he  said — ^young  de  Sparr,  who  was  to 
inherit  from  M.  de  Senonville — how  can  I  remember  them 
all  ?  Even  M.  de  Chasseloup-Laubat ! — these  are  the  names 
that  stick  in  my  mind,  but  in  justice  to  the  different  ways  in 
which  I  was  attacked,  I  ought  to  say  that  I  was  wrong  to  put 
M.  de  Montalivaux  on  the  list  of  aspirants  to  my  hand;  that 
was  not  exactly  his  object;  he  never  made  me  an  offer  of 
marriage,  and,  whatever  were  his  secret  wishes,  he  did  not 
dare  to  express  them  in  words. 

The  expedition  to  Africa  was  talked  of  during  this  spring; 
recruiting  went  on,  the  fleet  was  got  ready,  and  all  the  noble, 
warlike  French  ideas  reawakened  after  the  long  torpor  of  the 
Restoration.  M.  de  Montalivaux  asked  leave  to  go  with  the 
expedition,  and  from  him  I  learned  what  was  being  done,  for 
as  I  did  not  go  into  society  I  had  heard  but  little  of  the  enor- 
mous preparations  that  were  made.  I  was  so  taken  up  with 
Henry,  my  small  occupations,  and  the  few  people  who  were 
trying  to  advance  in  my  good  graces  that  politics  and  public 
affairs  mattered  little  to  me.  1  was  still  very  much  depressed, 
and,  at  her  wits'  end  for  something  to  amuse  me,  and  perhaps 
to  follow  the  fashion,  my  mother  proposed  that  we  should 
disguise  ourselves  and  go  to  the  celebrated  Mile.  Lenormand 
to  have  our  fortunes  told.  I  agreed,  and  certainly  no  one 
would  have  taken  us  for  women  of  fashion  from  our  dress; 
any  working  girl  would  have  claimed  us  for  sisters.    We  soon 


MEMOIRS  105 


found  ourselves  in  the  presence  of  the  sibyl;  there  was  noth- 
ing diabolical  about  her  but  a  hideous  black  velvet  cap  she 
wore,  which  made  her  coarse  face  look  still  more  common. 

She  began  by  looking  at  me  very  attentively,  and  then 
dealt  out  the  cards  with  the  greatest  care;  finally  she  said  to 
me:  "You  have  tried  to  disguise  yourself,  but  without  suc- 
cess, for  I  see  that  you  are  a  woman  of  wealth  and  position; 
you  are  so  young  that  any  one  might  take  you  for  an  unmar- 
ried girl,  but  you  are  married  and  have  children.  .  .  . 
Trouble  has  come  to  you,  but  that  is  all  over  now;  you  are  a 
widow,  madame,  but  you  will  marry  again  before  the  autumn. 
Do  not  try  to  guess  who  your  future  husband  will  be,  for  you 
do  not  know  him  as  yet;  the  sea  now  rolls  between  you,  and 
he  will  cross  two  other  oceans  before  he  meets  you.  He  is 
young,  handsome,  rich,  and  good;  you  will  be  as  happy  as 
you  deserve  to  be;  also  you  will  travel  a  great  deal  and  see 
many  foreign  courts.**  Then  in  answer  to  my  questions  she 
added  that  within  two  months  I  should  make  the  acquain- 
tance of  the  man  of  whom  she  spoke. 

We  laughed  over  my  future  good  luck,  I  told  them  about 
it  that  evening,  and  forgot  it  the  next  day. 

My  handsome  admirer,  M.  de  Montalivaux,  came  to  bring 
me  a  bunch  of  violets  and  take  a  tender  leave  of  me,  to  which 
I  responded  with  my  best  wishes  for  his  health  and  happi- 
ness, which  were  perfectly  sincere  and  disinterested,  as  I  had 
never  had  the  slightest  idea  of  sharing  his  lot.  Once  or  twice 
I  received  very  pleasant  letters  from  him,  and  I  think  1  an- 
swered one  of  them;  then  he  passed  out  of  my  mind,  and  I 


106  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

never  saw  him  again,  for  he  died  shortly  after  his  return  from 
Africa. 

Admiral  de  Rigny  also  made  love  to  me  at  a  distance,  and 
when  absent  confided  his  interests  to  his  sister,  but  I  do  not 
think  he  was  any  more  serious  in  his  pursuit  of  me  than  I 
was  in  the  way  I  took  Mile,  de  Rigny's  polite  visits. 

The  Comte  de  Latour-Maubourg  also  flew  to  my  side,  but 
on  rather  cautious  wings.  We  received  him  kindly,  and  after 
several  visits  he  wrote  letters  to  my  mother  and  me.  Mine 
consisted  of  all  the  usual  rigmarole  of  an  offer  of  marriage, 
made  to  a  fortune  of  from  ten  to  fifty  thousand  livres  a  year ! 
My  mother  answered  politely  for  us  both,  he  paid  us  a  fare- 
well visit  in  which  I  behaved  awkwardly,  and  all  was 
over. 

In  the  oifices  of  lawyers  and  men  of  business  there  was 
much  interest  in  my  affairs;  many  came  to  spy  out  the  land, 
and  numbers  asked  for  an  introduction  to  me,  of  whom  I  saw 
very  few,  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  they  bored  me  to  death.  I 
was  really  obliged  to  receive  M.  de  Semonville's  grandson; 
they  made  a  point  of  introducing  him  to  me,  though  he  cer- 
tainly gained  nothing  by  it !  As  long  as  he  remained  in  the 
distance  there  was  something  imposing  about  a  duke,  peer  of 
France,  heir  to  the  "Grand  Referendary,"  but  near  by  he 
was  only  an  ugly,  absurd-looking  little  man.  His  face  was 
small  and  sad,  with  such  poor  teeth  that  you  noticed  them 
even  at  a  distance,  so  I  made  up  my  mind  to  refuse  him  at 
the  first  word,  in  spite  of  the  magnificent  fruit  and  flowers 
that  his  grandfather  sent  every  day  from  the  Luxembourg. 


MEMOIRS  107 


I  told  my  father  one  evening  how  little  I  liked  this  new 
pretender  to  my  hand.  "Ah!  that  reminds  me!"  he  said; 
"there  are  two  more  who  came  to  see  Poignant  the  other 

day;  one  is  X ,  quite  out  of  the  question,  but  Poignant 

is  positively  enthusiastic  about  the  other,  and  insists  on 
bringing  him  here;  he  is  the  son  of  an  old  acquaintance  of 
mine,  who  was  perhaps  rather  .  .  .  rapid  in  her  day,  the 
Princess  de  Chimay." 

The  name  recalled  so  many  stories  about  *'  La  Cabarrus," 
as  she  used  to  be  called,  that  I  could  not  help  making  a  face, 
as  children  say,  when  my  father  added:  "Poignant  says  that 
he  is  young  and  very  good-looking,  and  that  no  one  could 
possibly  express  himself  better  than  he  did  or  be  more  agree- 
able; so  to  please  him  I  said  he  could  bring  the  young  man 
to  see  me  some  morning." 

My  mother  declared  that  she  should  love  to  see  the  son 
of  her  old  acquaintance,  and  I  laughed  and  said  that  as  I 
had  no  wish  to  be  the  daughter-in-law  of  Mme.  Tallien  I 
would  rather  not  run  the  risk  of  being  captivated  like  M. 
Poignant. 

No  new  names  were  added  to  the  long  list  of  my  suitors,  as 
the  French  fleet  was  now  blockading  Algiers;  but  there  was 
no  hero  there  in  whom  I  took  an  interest,  or  in  the  siege  it- 
self; I  even  ungratefully  forgot  the  knight  who  was  destined 
to  wear  my  colors.  My  voice  had  grown  weak,  but  I  tried 
to  sing,  and  though  I  did  not  play  well  on  either  the  harp  or 
the  piano,  I  practised  diligently,  as  my  poor  husband  had  so 


108  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

often  advised  me  to  do;  also  I  took  up  drawing,  and  tried  to 
teach  my  poor  little  Henry  to  control  his  temper,  for  he  was 
inclined  to  be  peevish. 

My  father  had  given  me  a  room  on  the  ground  floor,  and 
one  April  morning  I  was  there,  and  was  just  saying  my 
prayers  when  some  one  knocked  at  the  door;  I  made  the 
sign  of  the  cross,  and  went  to  open  it;  there  was  my  mother, 
and  behind  her  I  saw  a  tall  young  man  leaning  against  the 
what-not  in  the  dining-room;  he  had  large  eyes,  and  they 
took  in  the  whole  of  my  small  person  with  a  penetrating  but 
tender  glance.  "The  Prince  de  Chimay,"  said  my  mother, 
"the  son  of  one  of  my  old  friends." 

"Friend?"  said  I  to  myself.  "The  other  day  it  was  only 
an  acquaintance;  mother  is  bewitched,  like  the  notary.  I 
must  have  a  look  at  this  lady-killer." 

We  went  out  in  the  garden,  where  I  could  examine  the 
great  man  at  my  ease,  who  presented  himself  all  alone  in  a 
quiet,  unembarrassed  way,  perfectly  self-possessed,  but  with- 
out a  trace  of  swagger  about  him.  He  was  tall  and  hand- 
some, with  particularly  distinguished  manners,  and  his  sweet 
but  penetrating  voice  would  alone  have  explained  the  favor- 
able impression  he  made  on  every  one.  It  appeared  he  was 
indifferent  to  ordinary  methods  of  pleasing,  for  he  wore  a 
long  English  overcoat  which  rather  hid  his  tall  figure,  and 
was  not  at  all  becoming,  and,  strangely  enough,  a  wig  was 
pulled  down  over  his  young  forehead. 

In  answer  to  a  question  of  my  mother's,  he  said  that  he 
had  been  ill  of  a  fever  in  England,  and  as  his  head  had  been 


THE  PRINCESS  DE  CHTMAY  AS  A  CHILD 


MEMOIRS  109 


shaved,  he  was  obliged  to  wear  a  wig,  but  that  he  meant  to 
leave  it  off  when  the  weather  got  warmer. 

He  also  told  us  that  he  had  just  come  from  Toulon,  where 
he  had  seen  the  fleet  when  it  set  sail,  and  he  said  enthusiasti- 
cally that  it  was  the  finest  thing  that  he  had  ever  beheld 
.  .  .  but  I  could  no  longer  listen !  ...  he  had  come  from 
England,  he  had  seen  the  Mediterranean — Mile.  Lenor- 
mand's  two  seas !  .  .  .  I  was  silent  during  the  rest  of  his 
visit,  but  before  he  left  my  mother  invited  him  to  a  little 
party  we  were  giving  in  a  few  days. 

After  he  had  gone  my  mother  praised  his  appearance,  my 
father  pronounced  him  charming,  and  I  said  that  he  was  very 
distinguished.  I  don't  know  that  I  thought  much  about 
him,  but  I  must  confess  that  I  looked  forward  to  seeing  him 
at  our  little  entertainment  with  great  interest.  When  he 
came  in  it  was  rather  a  shock  to  those  who  aspired  more  or 
less  openly  to  my  hand;  they  suspected  a  dangerous  rival  in 
this  handsome,  elegant  young  man. 

He  had  left  off  his  ugly  wig,  so  that  you  could  see  how  the 
short  hair  grew  down  in  points  on  his  broad,  open  brow,  and 
his  tall,  well-made  figure  was  set  off  to  admiration  by  his 
blue  dress  coat.  In  the  glance  of  his  fine  eyes  there  was  a 
caressing,  gentle  expression  I  Altogether,  I  had  never  seen 
a  more  attractive,  even  fascinating  young  man. 

I  shall  remember  that  evening  to  my  dying  day:  My 
music-master  had  brought  a  group  of  amateur  singers,  who 
sang  to  us  in  the  garden,  while  we  listened  from  the  windows. 
Every  one  tried  to  get  near  me,  but  the  Prince  de  Chimay 


110  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

felt  himself  too  much  a  newcomer  for  such  marked  attentions, 
and  had  the  good  taste  to  devote  himself  to  my  mother,  but 
without  taking  his  eyes  off  me !  I  do  not  know  if  he  felt  the 
same,  but  for  me  it  was  an  attraction  such  as  I  had  never 
known  before.  It  was  all  so  new  and  wonderful,  and  the 
men  who  fluttered  about  me  seemed  stupid  and  ridiculous. 
I  felt  that  with  a  guest  like  this  my  evenings  would  begin  to 
be  really  interesting,  and  how  my  dull  days  would  be  en- 
livened by  this  new  charm !  I  began  to  take  interest  in  a 
thousand  trifles  which  I  had  long  neglected;  dress  became 
important  to  me,  I  thought  a  great  deal  of  my  looks,  and 
tried  hard  to  please. 

As  a  rule  we  were  only  at  home  in  the  evening,  but  after 
a  little  while  the  prince  asked  my  mother  if  there  was 
no  way  of  seeing  her  in  the  morning?  And  I  believe  she  an- 
swered that  if  the  weather  was  bad  she  generally  stayed  in 
the  house,  so  that  one  might  possibly  find  her  in  on  a  rainy 
day. 

The  very  next  day,  though  the  sun  was  shining  brightly, 
he  arrived  with  an  umbrella  in  his  hand;  and  by  way  of  ex- 
cuse he  declared  he  had  felt  a  few  drops. 

He  was  already  such  a  favorite  that  the  joke  was  taken  in 
good  part,  and  on  that  day  he  displayed  unsuspected  talents; 
I  discovered  that  he  was  a  linguist,  as  well  as  a  musician, 
when  he  played  Weber's  "Last  Sigh,"  that  sweet  melan- 
choly air,  like  a  swan  song.  ...  I  asked  him  to  play  it 
again  every  time  he  came.  Had  he  not  said  that  he  hoped 
with  all  his  heart  that  1  would  always  listen  to  him  ! 

Everything  about  me  now  seemed  interesting;  I  lived 


MEMOIRS  111 


every  moment,  and  a  new  light  shone  on  me.  Not  that  my 
past  was  forgotten,  or  the  memory  of  my  lost  ones  effaced, 
but  it  was  no  longer  the  same  bitter,  solitary  pain.  The 
future,  which  had  looked  so  dark,  now  blossomed  again  with 
youth  and  hope,  and  my  heart  swelled  with  sweet  and  tender 
joy.  My  darling  Henry  was  never  out  of  my  thoughts,  but 
now  he  seemed  closer  to  me  than  ever,  on  account  of  the  way 
he  was  drawn  to  the  man,  whom  even  in  my  thoughts  I 
dared  not  yet  call  Joseph !  The  winning  manner  which  was 
one  of  his  chief  charms  had  touched  even  this  sickly,  peevish 
child,  and  though  he  had  not  tried  to  please  the  poor  little 
creature,  who  could  only  be  attractive  in  his  mother's  eyes, 
the  boy  was  so  completely  won  over  that  he  was  always 
asking  for  the  prince,  and  held  out  his  arms  to  him  whenever 
he  came!  The  secret  was  that  his  charm  came  from  the 
heart;  he  was  full  of  feeling,  kind  and  generous,  and  I  began 
to  long  to  find  rest  for  my  wounded  heart  in  this  noble 
nature,  which  would  never  fail  me. 

When  I  went  out  with  my  little  boy  in  the  morning  I  would 
meet  the  prince  riding  his  thoroughbred  with  the  ease  and 
grace  he  showed  in  all  he  did,  and  when  he  would  take  a  car- 
nation from  his  buttonhole  and  offer  it  to  me,  1  felt  it  was 
worth  all  the  fine  bouquets  in  the  world.  He  came  nearly 
every  day  and  made  no  secret  of  his  hopes. 

His  formal  offer  was  presented  to  my  father,  who  asked  an 
audience  of  the  Prince  de  Polignac,  now  minister,  but  who 
had  been  for  a  long  time  French  ambassador  to  England,  and 
knew  the  prince  well  when  he  was  there,  attached  to  the 
Dutch  Legation. 


112  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

We  had  the  best  accounts  of  him  from  other  quarters,  but 
this  was  final  and  of  the  highest  importance,  so  it  may  be 
imagined  with  what  impatience  I  awaited  my  father's  report. 
Though  I  had  shown  the  prince  marked  favor,  and  my  heart 
was  his,  I  could  only  bestow  my  hand  on  a  man  whom  I  could 
entirely  ^trust,  for  I  was  not  only  choosing  a  lord  and  master 
for  myself,  but  a  father  for  Henry,  and  as  a  mother  I  was 
ready  to  sacrifice  my  own  happiness  to  my  child. 

My  father  came  back  delighted  with  the  way  the  Prince 
de  Polignac  had  received  him,  and  I  had  to  listen  to  a  great 
deal  about  politics  and  the  graciousness  of  the  minister  before 
we  came  to  what  interested  me  the  most.  My  heart  beat 
fast  as  I  waited  till  the  warmth  of  my  father's  gratitude  had 
spent  itself,  and  he  could  come  to  the  point.  At  last  he  could 
tell  me  of  all  the  praises  he  had  heard  of  the  character,  habits,* 
talents,  and  intelligence  of  our  young  friend,  and  after  having 
said  a  great  deal  on  this  subject,  the  Prince  de  Polignac  had 
ended  by  declaring  that  if  he  had  a  daughter  old  enough  to 
be  married,  he  should  be  glad  to  give  her  to  so  remarkable  a 
young  man. 

How  proud  and  glad  I  was  to  see  my  choice  approved  by 
a  personage  whose  opinion  carried  such  weight,  and  what 
happiness  to  be  free  to  love  him  and  to  say  to  myself  that 
he  deserved  all  that  I  felt  for  him ! 

He  talked  to  me  a  great  deal  of  all  the  brightness  that  he 
hoped  I  would  bring  into  his  life,  and  spoke  so  tenderiy  of  his 
mother  that  little  by  little  I  felt  my  prejudices  against  her 
melt  away;  after  all,  was  he  not  her  son?  and  was  I  not 
beginning  to  love  him  with  all  my  heart  ?    I  knew  that  he 


MEMOIRS  113 


had  a  young  sister,  and  a  brother  who  was  an  officer  in  the 
Dutch  army,  and  he  told  me  about  their  Hfe  at  Chimay  and 
in  Brussels,  and  in  all  he  said  could  be  felt  the  bitterness  with 
which  he  saw  his  mother  excluded  from  Court,  and  realized 
how  the  errors  of  her  youth  were  now  to  be  expiated  in  later 
years.  He  expected  that  my  good  position  would  go  far  to 
remove  these  barriers. 

I  listened,  but  I  did  not  quite  see  how  even  the  spotless 
reputation  of  a  young  woman  of  twenty  could  avert  the  in- 
evitable consequences  of  light  conduct  followed  by  a  divorce. 
However,  I  promised  peace,  comfort,  and  every  consideration 
due  to  the  mother  of  one  who  was  already  so  dear  to  me. 

Shall  I  tell  of  all  the  incidents  on  the  threshold  of  the  life 
which  opened  so  brightly  before  me,  and  describe  the  jealous 
rage  of  poor  Maison  as  he  struggled  to  imitate  his  elegant 
namesake,  with  no  more  success  than  the  ass  in  the  fable  who 
tried  to  take  the  place  of  the  lap-dog  ?  Then  there  were  those 
delicious  Luxembourg  strawberries,  which  my  Joseph  ate, 
with  best  wishes  for  the  health  of  the  Grand  Ref^randaire, 
and  the  Comte  C.  de  Lagrange,  squinting  worse  and  worse — 
to  say  nothing  of  poor  dear  Las  Cases,  who  sighed  deeply  as 
he  listened  to  my  confidences. 

I  should  rather  speak  of  one  evening  when  I  had  secretly 
drawn  a  little  portrait  in  crayons  from  nature;  M.  Maison 
took  it  out  of  my  hand  and  complimented  me  so  sarcastically 
that  his  rival  was  delighted,  and  I  overcome  by  confusion;  I 
could  only  get  out  of  it  by  drawing  the  likeness  of  every  per- 
son present. 

One  night  my  father  and  I  were  invited  to  dine  with  M. 


114  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

de  Rothschild  at  Suresnes,  in  that  chateau  that  has  since 
been  sacked;  and  as  we  were  to  stay  overnight,  we  sent 
word  to  the  usual  visitors  of  our  absence.  When  we  came 
back  we  heard  of  a  scene  that  had  taken  place  in  the  house; 
M.  Maison  came,  and  in  spite  of  what  the  servants  told  him, 
seeing  lights  in  the  windows,  he  felt  sure  that  orders  had 
been  given  to  exclude  him,  and  went  home  in  such  a  state  of 
excitement  and  jealousy  that  his  mother  offered  to  go  her- 
self and  see  if  I  was  really  there.  She  drove  to  our  door, 
and  refusing  to  listen  to  the  hall-porter,  she  forced  her  way 
in  and  found  my  mother  in  her  dressing-gown  with  little 
Henry  on  her  knee,  teaching  him  a  baby  piece  on  the  piano, 
and  was  obliged  to  make  what  excuses  she  could  for  her  in- 
discreet visit  and  her  son's  foolish  mistake.  I  found  after- 
ward that  Joseph  had  followed  me  at  a  distance,  but  had 
kept  out  of  sight. 

He  came  in  one  morning  and  told  us  he  was  on  his  way 
to  Brussels  to  see  his  parents  and  tell  them  of  his  happiness; 
he  added  that  he  feared  that  they  would  not  believe  him,  so 
I  gave  him  my  portrait  in  miniature  and  permission  to  write 
to  me,  and  my  solemn  promise  to  be  his.  So  he  went,  tak- 
ing with  him  my  hopes,  my  joy,  and  my  love ! 

How  dull  and  dreary  everything  seemed  in  his  absence ! 
and  what  a  bore  it  was  to  talk  to  indifferent  people !  They 
made  me  go  one  day  to  see  Mme.  de  Bourmont,  wife  of  the 
minister  of  war,  who  had  gone  with  the  African  expedition. 
It  was  said  that  he  wished  to  efface  in  the  service  of  France 


MEMOIRS  115 


the  sad  memory  of  former  treachery;  and  later  this  tardy 
reparation  cost  him  his  life. 

A  few  days  after  the  prince  left  I  received  my  first  letter 
from  him,  and  one  from  his  mother,  which  I  answered;  then 
one  day,  when  I  was  working  by  the  window,  suddenly  I 
saw  the  orange  liveries,  and  a  few  minutes  later  Joseph  was 
at  my  side. 

He  told  me  that  his  father  wished  to  make  the  official  offer 
for  my  hand,  but  above  all  wanted  to  see  his  future  daughter. 
I  left  off  mourning  from  that  day,  and  well  remember  the 
pink  ribbons  that  I  put  on  to  captivate  my  father-in-law; 
also,  I  have  an  amusing  recollection  of  the  surprised  expres- 
sion of  my  friends  when  I  appeared  at  the  Opera  with  the 
two  Chimays:  M.  de  Lagrange  especially  looked  so  droll,  I 
shall  never  forget  him  ! 

I  had  my  share  of  public  attention,  though  the  politicians 
were  much  occupied,  not  only  by  the  news  from  the  army, 
but  by  the  underhand  dealings  of  the  liberal  and  Orleanist 
parties.  The  taking  of  Algiers  put  a  momentary  stop  to 
these  wranglings;  the  king  was  cheered,  Victory  was  the  cry, 
and  some  grand  balls  were  given  in  honor  of  the  French  ex- 
ploits and  the  arrival  of  the  King  of  Naples.  To  use  the 
picturesque  expression  of  M.  de  Salvandy,  we  were  dancing 
on  a  volcano.  .  .  .  The  crater  was  deeper  and  the  explosions 
worse  than  we  imagined  then. 

Our  contract  proved  very  difficult  to  draw  up;  the  prince's 
lawyers  tried  to  bargain  with  my  father,  and  there  were  some 
painful  moments  which  I  will  not  dwell  upon  here.    Joseph 


116  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

had  nothing  to  do  with  all  this,  for  he  understood  nothing  of 
business  matters;  but  it  was  always  so  hard  to  deal  with  my 
father,  that  at  one  time  I  actually  thought  the  negotiations 
would  have  to  be  given  up,  but  the  Lord  had  pity  on  me,  and 
at  last  all  was  arranged.  The  prince  went  back  to  Brussels, 
promising  to  return  with  his  mother  to  Menars,  where  we 
were  to  be  married,  far  from  the  jealous,  curious  world,  and 
from  the  places  where  I  had  known  so  much  suffering. 

We  set  out  about  the  ist  of  July  for  Menars,  in  the  big 
landau;  my  mother,  Henry,  and  I  on  the  back  seat,  Joseph 
facing  me,  while  the  nurses  and  maids  went  in  the  caleche. 
The  fourteen-hour  drive  did  not  seem  long;  it  was  a  lovely 
day,  the  first  of  a  long  series  of  happy  times  that  I  owe  to 
him,  the  object  of  my  deepest,  tenderest  affections. 

As  I  have  said,  we  were  profoundly  ignorant  of  good  house- 
keeping and  how  to  be  comfortable,  so  nothing  was  ready 
for  us  when  we  arrived,  as  Joseph  must  have  known  at  once, 
when  he  found  dead  birds  on  the  floor !  They  had  put  my 
bed  in  my  mother's  room,  and  while  she  was  unpacking  he 
and  I  sat  in  the  green  parlor  and  talked  about  our  future, 
and  I  could  not  help  crying,  also,  for  the  past  lay  heavy  on 
my  heart  on  coming  back  to  this  house  I  had  left  with  my 
two  little  boys. 

I  cannot  begin  to  tell  how  sweetly  he  consoled  me,  as  I 
listened  to  promises  of  future  happiness  uttered  in  his  dear, 
tender  voice.  .  .  .     Promises  all  so  faithfully  fulfilled ! 

My  choice  was  generally  approved,  and  all  my  friends 
hastened  to  tell  me  how  glad  they  were  to  see  me  entering 
on  a  new  life  with  a  companion  so  charming  in  looks  and 


MEMOIRS  117 


disposition.  From  the  steward,  M.  Guerrier,  up  to  Doctor 
Desfray,  all  joined  in  praising  him.  We  revisited  the  places 
that  had  become  dear  to  me;  we  rode,  drove,  and  walked 
together,  and  together  we  taught  my  little  Henry,  who  clung 
more  and  more  to  his  future  father. 

The  wedding-day  was  fixed;  we  only  waited  now  for  the 
necessary  papers  and  the  arrival  of  Joseph's  family.  Only 
one  week  more ! 

One  morning  1  received  a  letter  from  my  father,  enclosing 
a  copy  of  the  king's  edicts  just  published;  thinking  that 
Joseph  knew  more  about  such  things,  1  handed  them  to  him 
and  was  surprised  to  hear  him  say  in  an  agitated  manner: 
"  If  this  is  true,  there  must  be  fighting  now  in  Paris !" 

My  mother  and  1  were  childish  enough  to  laugh  at  him 
as  a  twenty-year-old  politician,  making  light  of  his  anxieties 
.  .  .  but  when  we  saw  Comte  de  Leroy,  prefect  of  the  de- 
partment of  Seine-et-Loire,  he  too  seemed  very  unaasy.  The 
postman  did  not  come  in  the  evening,  but  late  at  night  a 
diligence  arrived  full  of  fugitives,  with  the  news  that  the 
people  were  up  in  arms. 

Later  in  the  day  we  heard  that  there  was  firing  in  the 
streets,  and  we  sat  up  all  night  waiting  for  news  which  did 
not  come  till  dawn.  My  father  described  the  day's  fighting, 
the  defeat  of  the  Court,  and  finally  said  that  the  king  had 
fled  with  his  family  and  body-guard.  Fighting  had  ceased, 
and  they  were  organizing  a  provisional  government. 

The  next  day  our  prefect  ofl"ered  his  resignation  to  the  de- 
partment, but  was  requested  to  continue  to  rule  over  the 


118  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

Loir-et-Cher,  and  shortly  after  we  learned  of  events  in 
Paris.  The  Due  d'Orleans  was  named  lieutenant-general  of 
the  kingdom  .  .  .  some  had  run  away,  others  were  starting 
on  a  new  triumphal  progress.  They  were  singing  the  "  Pari- 
sienne"  and  burying  the  dead;  meanwhile  the  Bonapartists 
were  taking  heart,  the  Carlists  stormed — and  every  one  had 
had  a  fright ! 

As  soon  as  he  understood  the  course  of  events,  Joseph  had 
sent  Philip,  his  valet,  to  Brussels  to  warn  his  parents  and 
obtain  the  papers,  and  after  a  great  deal  of  difficulty  at  the 
frontier,  he  came  back  with  them,  but  when  we  showed  them 
to  President  Bergevin  he  did  not  think  them  sufficient,  and 
strongly  advised  us  to  return  to  Paris,  where  I  had  my  legal 
domicile,  rather  than  to  risk  having  a  flaw  in  our  records. 
There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  submit;  so  we  packed  up 
again,  and  got  into  our  carriage,  unhappy  at  leaving  Menars, 
and  fearful  of  what  awaited  us  in  Paris. 

Our  carriage  broke  down  half-way,  and  we  had  to  stop  at 
a  wretched  little  inn,  where  we  were  glad  to  find  mattresses 
to  lie  on.  I  took  my  little  boy  with  me,  Joseph  found  some 
corner  where  he  could  sleep,  and  so  did  the  nurse,  and  in  this 
uncomfortable  way  we  spent  our  first  night  as  fellow  trav- 
ellers. 

At  break  of  day  we  started  off  again,  and  reached  our  own 
house  tired  out,  and  about  twelve  o'clock  Joseph  came  to 
take  me  to  his  mother,  who  had  arrived  the  evening  before. 

Our  imaginations  sometimes  lead  us  terribly  astray;  I  had 
forgotten  the  flight  of  time,  and  the  once  beautiful  There- 
zia's  age,  and  in  the  old  woman  before  me  I  had  expected 


MEMOIRS  119 


to  find  the  celebrated  Madame  Tallien  of  whom  I  had  heard 
so  much. 

The  first  glance  did  not  show  me  at  all  what  I  anticipated; 
she  was  not  like  her  son,  and,  being  enormously  fat,  the  old- 
fashioned  clothes  she  wore  were  very  unbecoming  to  her. 
My  young  sister-in-law  was  pretty,  but  not  as  handsome  as 
she  afterward  became,  and  what  struck  me  most  was  the 
total  absence  of  distinction.  Louise  welcomed  me  with 
childish  delight  as  a  new  playfellow;  she  was  grateful  to  me 
as  the  cause  of  her  journey,  and  rubbed  herself  against  me 
caressingly,  like  a  pussy-cat.  My  mother-in-law  seemed  em- 
barrassed and  timid,  as  if  she  did  not  dare  to  be  motherly 
and  protecting,  and  reproached  herself. 

My  father-in-law  thought  me  pretty,  and  paid  court  to 
me  like  a  man  who  was  used  to  it,  but  not  at  all  in  a  paternal 
manner.  He  was  very  agreeable  and  well  turned  out,  but 
under  these  graces  was  concealed  an  insignificant  character 
and  a  truly  masculine  egotism.  He  loved  his  children  just 
as  he  did  when  they  were  little,  taking  no  interest  in  their 
pleasures  except  to  share  them. 

My  brother-in-law,  Alphonse,  was  a  big,  jolly  felloA^,  hand- 
some and  very  thoughtless,  showing  already  that  sort  of 
artificial  good  nature  that  is  still  characteristic  of  him.  He 
is  too  indolent  to  make  good  use  of  his  natural  advantages; 
fond  of  good  living,  untruthful,  selfish,  and  boastful,  with 
only  a  semblance  of  affection  for  others,  he  lets  his  talents 
and  his  beauty  rust,  and  simply  vegetates,  while  the  years 
drift  by  him.     I  also  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  tutor, 


120  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

I — : 

M.  Moyne,  and,  though  I  earnestly  wished  to  please  every- 
body, in  spite  of  my  eflForts  I  got,  as  the  children  say,  a  good 
many  raps  on  the  knuckles. 

In  M.  Moyne  I  came  in  contact  with  a  person  not  easy  to 
know,  and  not  agreeable  on  first  acquaintance.  Underneath 
his  surly  manner  was  an  aggressive  devotion  that  I  did  not 
appreciate,  and  he  was  always  on  the  defensive,  believing  in 
nothing  and  nobody.  His  experience  of  life  had  been  such 
as  to  destroy  all  faith  in  feminine  sincerity,  and  he  did  not 
reply  to  what  you  said  to  him,  but  to  what  he  thought  you 
thought.  I  could  not  count  the  number  of  disagreeable 
things  that  he  found  means  to  imply,  but  fortunately  my 
perfect  confidence  in  Joseph  kept  me  from  believing  them. 
There  was  another  person  who  did  not  impress  me  very 
favorably,  Mme.  de  Narbonne- Pellet,*  daughter  of  M.  Tal- 
lien  and  my  mother-in-law;  she  seemed  rather  touchy  and 
plaintive,  and  not  prepossessed  by  the  newcomer  in  the 
family. 

The  ten  days  that  followed  were  not  as  sweet  as  those  at 
Menars.  Each  one  brought  its  small  annoyance;  business 
men  with  their  difficulties,  my  father  with  his  disagreeable 
way  of  acting,  my  mother-in-law  and  her  .  .  .  doubtful 
children,  the  hostile  M.  Moyne,  always  boring  one  by  doubts 
and  unpleasant  stories  about  everybody;  added  together  it 
made  something  that  only  my  Joseph  could  successfully 
counteract.  One  evening,  more  for  the  sake  of  contradic- 
tion than  to  praise  his  pupil,  the  tutor  insisted  that  Joseph 
♦ThermldorTalUen. 


MEMOIRS  121 


did  not  like  tiie  country,  adored  the  gay  world,  and  could 
not  live  a  week  without  society,  and  wound  up  by  a  bet  not 
at  all  flattering  to  me,  that  we  would  come  back  to  Paris 
this  winter  at  the  end  of  two  months.  I  bet  twelve  bottles 
of  gin  against  him  and  Mme.  de  Pellet. 

The  nine  happiest  years  of  my  life  spent  at  Menars  were 
a  sufficient  answer  to  these  forebodings. 

Before  my  marriage  it  was  necessary  for  me  to  transfer 
the  guardianship  of  my  son  to  my  father;  the  day  for  this 
had  not  been  fixed,  as  a  family  council  was  to  be  held,  which 
was  difficult  just  at  this  time  of  revolution.  There  were  nu- 
merous delays,  in  spite  of  Joseph's  impatience  and  my  own 
desire  to  put  an  end  to  an  embarrassing  situation.  On  re- 
turning home  this  last  time,  I  had  moved  back  into  my 
old  room  which  I  had  left  when  I  was  so  unhappy.  I  had 
received  visits  and  polite  letters  from  M.  de  Brigode's 
brothers;  they  could  not  rejoice  at  my  marriage,  and  they 
thought  my  future  husband  very  young,  but  they  said  all 
that  was  proper  and  affectionate. 

At  last  I  signed  the  renunciation  of  my  guardianship  in 
favor  of  my  father,  and  the  next  morning  Joseph  appeared 
before  lunch  in  his  riding-clothes;  he  was  in  the  highest,  most 
radiant  spirits,  and  he  rushed  up  to  me,  exclaiming:  "  Every- 
thing is  arranged  for  this  evening !  Oh,  how  happy  I  am  ! 
But  I  must  be  off !"  And  away  he  went,  without  stopping 
to  explain  anything  or  even  to  kiss  my  hand.  He  left  me 
so  trembling  and  confused  that  I  nearly  ran  away  myself  1 


122  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

Though  he  had  said  so  little  to  me,  he  had  not  been  silent 
toward  the  rest  of  the  household;  every  one  knew  about  it, 
as  I  found  only  too  soon  by  the  questions  that  poured  in 
upon  me  from  all  directions.  In  my  room  the  Lord  only 
knows  all  the  fuss  they  made  to  install  the  new  guest  in  his 
small  quarters !  They  put  candles  everywhere,  with  a  fes- 
tive spirit  which  I  was  unable  to  share,  I  remember  when 
I  was  half  dressed,  my  overzealous  servants  made  me  go 
down  to  the  ground  floor,  so  that  I  should  not  see  all  their 
preparations. 

Though  our  marriage  had  been  talked  of  for  so  long,  at 
the  last  the  haste  with  which  it  was  concluded  seemed  appro- 
priate to  the  time — to  the  torn-up  streets  and  general  dis- 
order of  the  revolution.  We  were  too  hurried  to  arrange  for 
proper  equipages;  besides,  to  speak  after  the  mob-manner, 
fine  carriages  would  have  been  offensive  to  the  people,  and, 
on  the  contrary,  we  imitated  cabs  as  much  as  possible.  We 
went  to  church  in  the  evening,  but  there  was  no  mass,  for 
we  could  not  drive  through  the  streets  late  at  night.  "  Lib- 
erty" forbade  that !  So  we  only  received  the  nuptial  bene- 
diction. 

The  gay  world  had  fled  or  was  in  hiding,  and  the  little 
noise  made  by  our  marriage  was  lost  in  the  sound  of  guns, 
for  on  the  very  day  when  being  turned  out  of  my  own  rooms 
I  was  running  down  to  my  father's,  I  came  face  to  face  with 
Vicomte  Maison,  coming  as  usual  to  visit  us,  and  gazing  with 
astonishment  at  the  decorations  and  candles  in  the  drawing- 
rooms. 


MEMOIRS  123 


I  never  received  any  visitor  with  less  pleasure;  I  dreaded 
lest  a  word  should  betray  the  state  of  things,  and  I  saw  also 
that  he  was  dying  to  be  asked  to  the  party  for  which  we  were 
preparing,  and  longed  with  all  my  heart  for  his  departure, 
till  at  last  he  rose  reluctantly  and  with  a  final  glance  of  sus- 
picion at  the  tall  candelabra  he  took  his  leave. 

The  day  came  to  an  end  at  last;  my  nice  little  father-in- 
law, — as  1  used  to  call  him  in  joke — came  to  dinner  with 
Joseph,  whose  appetite  never  failed;  and  then  I  went  to  dress. 
My  gown  was  designed  for  "good  luck,"  as  I  said,  and  was 
such  an  exquisite  creation  that  it  must  have  been  successful 
if  there  was  any  truth  in  the  superstition.  The  dress  was 
made  of  magnificent  lace,  with  a  pearl  girdle;  I  wore  a  wreath 
of  white  roses  and  pink  buds,  the  whole  covered  with  a  veil 
of  point  d'Angleterre.  I  had  put  my  little  Henry  to  bed 
myself,  and  when  I  was  dressed  I  came  down,  my  heart 
throbbing  with  emotion. 

How  beautiful  I  was  then,  and  good !  My  past  life  was 
like  an  aureole  of  purity  about  my  head,  and  how  proud  I 
was  to  bring  to  the  man  I  loved  a  heart  without  guile,  and 
the  respect  of  the  world. 

We  went  first  to  the  municipality,  where  M.  Bassas  de 
Lamegie  married  us  himself;  then  we  drove  through  streets 
as  bumpy  as  in  a  country  village,  to  St.  Germain-des-Pr&s. 
The  valuable  altar  ornaments  had  all  been  removed  to  a 
place  of  safety,  but  the  choir  was  filled  with  orange-trees  and 
lights,  so  though  religious  ceremonies  in  the  evening  are  gen- 
erally rather  dreary,  this  illumination  and  the  flowers  re- 


124  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

lieved  the  solemn  effect.  I  uttered  the  fateful  "Yes"  with- 
out a  tremor,  and  without  a  thought  of  fear,  for  I  leaned  with 
perfect  confidence  on  the  young  man  in  whose  hands  I  joy- 
fully placed  myself,  on  the  friend  who  became  ever  dearer 
during  twenty  years  of  affection. 

I  cannot  stop  to  tell  of  the  wedding-reception,  where  in 
spite  of  my  shyness  I  received  the  attentions  of  my  guests 
with  a  fairly  good  grace.  There  were  the  Due  de  Caraman, 
now  my  uncle;  General  Fagle,  my  husband's  chief  at  the 
Dutch  Legation,  and  our  two  cousins,  Georges  and  Adolph 
de  Caraman. 

I  was  too  preoccupied  to  notice  little  things,  but  I  have 
since  been  told  that  M.  de  Rocheplate,  my  aunt's  husband, 
deafened  poor  Joseph  with  his  political  opinions;  also  M.  de 
Ricard  du  Gard,  who  could  not  believe  that  one  could  be 
interested  in  anything  but  the  situation  of  the  moment. 
Some  days  afterward  I  heard  of  what  the  servants  called 
the  event  of  the  evening,  the  arrival  of  Vicomte  Maison,  who 
had  been  puzzled  by  the  preparations  that  he  had  seen  in  the 
morning.  When  he  asked  to  come  in  they  told  him  that  we 
were  not  there,  and  when  he  pointed  to  the  brilliantly  lighted 
rooms,  a  servant  answered  that  we  had  not  yet  come  back 
from  church.  .  .  .  The  shock  was  so  great  that  the  poor 
young  man  fell  down  in  a  fit  in  the  porter's  lodge,  who  could 
think  of  nothing  better  than  to  bundle  him  into  a  cab,  and 
send  him  back  anyhow  to  his  parents. 

I  had  no  thoughts  to  waste  on  my  unfortunate  admirer, 
and  after  a  somewhat  awkward  evening  they  all  took  leave. 


MEMOIRS  125 


my  parents-in-law  also  went  away,  leaving  Joseph  wild  with 
joy,  and  the  bride  more  and  more  embarrassed.  I  put  as 
good  a  face  on  it  as  I  could  however,  went  up-stairs,  took 
off  my  fine  clothes,  and  came  in  to  my  pretty  little  boudoir, 
where  I  sat  down  between  my  husband  and  my  mother. 

From  the  beginning  of  this  happy  day  time  seemed  to  have 
wings,  and  the  hours  passed  so  quickly  that  I  did  not  realize 
how  late  it  was  till  I  saw  Joseph's  imploring  looks  and  heard 
him  whisper:  "  It  is  midnight." 

I  kissed  my  mother  and  my  dear  little  boy  in  his  cradle, 
and  breathed  a  prayer  to  God  .  .  .  but  not  with  the  trans- 
ports of  gratitude  that  I  would  have  felt  if  the  future  had 
then  been  revealed  to  me,  if  I  could  have  seen  the  twenty- 
seven  years  of  happiness  that  have  since  elapsed,  and  real- 
ized what  a  father  I  was  giving  to  Henry,  what  a  noble,  good, 
delightful  companion  Heaven  had  bestowed  on  me  as  some 
compensation  for  my  sad  girlhood. 

I  cannot  say  enough  of  those  sweet,  enchanting  days,  the 
fitting  dawn  of  a  honeymoon  that  never  set;  but  if  I  regret 
that  early  time  of  joy  and  love,  it  is  only  because  I  fear  that 
those  in  whom  my  whole  heart  and  soul  are  centred,  may 
quit  this  world  before  me.  Beauty  and  springtime  have 
fled,  but  love  and  tenderness,  deep  gratitude  and  affection 
have  everlasting  life,  and  grow  stronger  with  every  year;  I 
only  pray  that  I  may  be  the  first  to  leave  the  place  where 
dwell  all  that  are  dear  to  me. 

The  next  day,  and  so  early  in  the  morning  that  the  servants 
could  not  believe  their  eyes,  we  ordered  the  carriage  to  take 


126  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

me  to  church  and  Joseph  to  see  his  parents,  each  of  us  seek- 
ing for  guidance.  The  first  step  in  my  new  life  was  toward 
God,  who  had  brought  me  safe  to  land  through  so  many 
perils  and  sorrows.  The  world  would  smile  to  hear  me  speak 
as  if  marriage  were  the  end  of  all  things  for  a  woman  twenty 
years  old;  but  for  a  character  like  mine  the  way  was  straight 
before  me;  1  could  never  again  be  deceived  or  go  astray;  all 
I  had  to  do  was  to  walk  by  the  side  of  my  chosen  companion. 
I  had  great  duties  to  fulfil,  but  1  could  ask  for  nothing  more 
in  this  world  than  the  love  of  my  husband  and  children. 

My  parents-in-law  had  been  ordered  to  Nice,  on  account 
of  the  Princess's  health,  but  as  they  did  not  leave  till  the  end 
of  September  we  stayed  on  a  little  while  longer  in  Paris.  We 
went  to  the  theatre,  where  the  sovereign  people  played  all 
kinds  of  tricks;  calling  for  the  " Parisienne,"  which  is  im- 
pressed on  my  mind,  tiresome  as  it  was,  because  nothing 
brings  back  an  association  so  strongly  as  music;  1  could 
never  hear  that  poor  composition  without  a  rush  of  feeling 
that  would  have  greatly  astonished  the  author. 

Sometimes  the  audience  would  be  told  to  rise  and  listen 
respectfully  to  an  actor  dressed  in  the  most  ridiculous  way 
and  waving  the  tricolor  flag.  I  remember  Baroeillet,  in  a 
bailiff's  robe  and  Louis  XIV  wig,  grasping  his  flag  before 
beginning  his  famous  air;  he  was  so  conscious  of  his  own 
absurd  appearance  that  after  a  moment's  hesitation  he  tore 
his  wig  off  and  threw  it  on  the  floor. 

Another  time  the  whole  pit  rose  against  a  man  who  re- 
mained seated  while  one  of  the  principal  comic  actors  tried 
to  touch  our  feelings  by  " Le  convoi  de  nos  freres."    "Stand 


MEMOIRS  127 


up !"  cried  the  house,  but  the  man  stayed  where  he  was,  and 
no  one  could  hear  what  he  was  trying  to  say  in  explanation, 
till  after  a  long  time  and  in  the  midst  of  a  deafening  clamor 
he  succeeded  in  making  himself  heard.  "  I  have  lost  both 
my  legs !"  he  shouted,  with  great  applause,  which  did  not, 
however,  give  him  back  his  limbs. 

All  sorts  of  things  turned  up  during  these  political  crises, 
some  tragic,  some  amusing,  for  when  one's  interests  are  not 
seriously  involved  in  the  performance,  one  can  always  make 
jokes  on  the  play.  Those  responsible  for  the  situation  are 
never  satisfied,  and  the  unlucky  people,  like  rats,  are  sure  to 
be  caught  in  the  baited  trap.  The  provisional  government 
tried  hard  to  pull  some  chestnuts  out  of  the  fire,  while  the 
public  could  only  revenge  itself  by  jeers,  particularly  at  the 
words  put  everywhere  and  in  the  most  unlikely  places:  "Lib- 
erty, Equality,  Fraternity.*'  A  wit  or  perhaps  a  philosopher 
added  this: 

Equality  In  poverty 
Liberty  to  die  of  hunger, 

The  fraternity  of  Cain, 

Behold  what  Is  offered, 
By  Citizen  Ledru-RolUn. 

but  the  irony  in  these  verses  could  not  be  compared  to  the 
absurdity  of  those  three  famous  words  painted  on  the  doors 
of  prisons;  all  Paris  saw  and  laughed  at  them.  These  things, 
of  course,  passed  over  our  heads,  happy  as  we  were  in  the 
new  freedom  of  our  love;  I  could  hardly  believe  that  there 
could  be  so  much  bliss  in  the  world  for  me,  and  to  add  to  our 
joy,  Joseph's  mother  left  for  Nice,  so  we  were  able  to  go  to 


128  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

Menars  and  settle  down  in  our  own  house.  There,  in  that 
happy  httle  kingdom  began  the  good  understanding,  the  en- 
during sympathy  which  has  lasted  these  twenty-seven  years, 
comforting  me  in  all  troubles  and  adding  tenfold  to  every 
pleasure. 

My  poor  little  Henry  needed  constant  watchfulness,  for 
every  day  he  seemed  to  have  something  the  matter  with  him; 
he  had  no  real  childhood  on  account  of  his  delicate  health, 
for  from  the  day  of  his  birth  he  was  nothing  but  an  invalid. 
The  whole  of  the  winter  following  our  marriage  was  spent  in 
nursing  him,  and  this  brought  out  still  more  my  Joseph's 
goodness  of  heart,  for  far  from  being  repelled  by  the  com- 
plaints of  the  little  sufferer,  who  disturbed  us  day  and  night, 
my  dear  young  husband  helped  me  with  the  most  adorable 
patience.  In  the  middle  of  the  night,  sometimes,  I  have 
known  him  get  up  and  play  the  violin,  to  quiet  the  poor, 
whining  child,  who  must  have  annoyed  him  excessively.  I 
cannot  tell  how  often  he  was  sent  after  the  doctor;  many  a 
time  1  have  wept  for  my  poor  baby  .  .  .  but  now  it  was 
with  my  husband's  arms  around  me. 

Toward  the  ist  of  January  I  began  to  feel  the  symptoms 
of  pregnancy,  and  my  condition  was  a  great  joy  to  Joseph, 
whose  parents  had  begun  to  say  that  after  the  terrible  time 
I  had  had  at  my  first  confinement,  the  chances  were  that  I 
should  never  have  another  child.  The  happy  event,  how- 
ever, falsified  this  prediction  and  other  anticipations  of  evil. 
However,  this  time  a  somewhat  imprudent  trip  to  Paris,  a 


MEMOIRS  129 


little  overfatigue — one  can  never  tell  exactly,  but  fate  did 
mingle  a  little  bitter  with  my  cup  of  happiness,  and  in  spite 
of  Doctor  Desfray's  care,  and  the  tears  we  shed,  for  this 
time  our  hopes  vanished,  leaving  only  regrets. 

My  recovery  was  rather  slow,  but  never  was  any  one  so 
well  taken  care  of!  I  really  enjoyed  my  invalid  life.  I 
would  lie  and  listen  to  charming  melodies  that  Joseph  played 
to  me  on  the  piano  that  he  had  had  brought  to  my  room ;  or 
I  would  take  a  few  steps  on  my  beautiful  flora  and  zephyr 
terrace;  and  come  back  carried  in  the  arms  of  him  who  was 
then  and  is  now  my  life,  my  whole  world !  It  was  sweet  to 
be  spoiled,  to  feel  that  I  was  loved,  to  be  utterly  happy. 

Joseph's  parents  came  to  see  us  in  the  spring;  they  admired 
Menars  and  we  did  everything  we  could  to  make  them  wel- 
come. 

The  Republic,  which  had  not  been  very  well  satisfied 
with  itself  after  having  got  rid  of  Charles  X,  now  knelt  at 
the  feet  of  Louis-Philippe,  who  with  his  crown  on  his  head 
and  an  umbrella  under  his  arm  took  his  turn  in  that  lodging 
which  has  proved  but  a  temporary  and  precarious  resting- 
place  to  so  many  kings. 

My  new  family  took  a  great  fancy  to  Menars,  and  stayed 
with  us  several  months.  They  liked  the  fine  climate  and  the 
comfortable  life;  besides,  my  mother-in-law's  health  was 
much  improved,  and  her  husband  enjoyed  being  near  his  son. 

Alphonse  rode  about  a  great  deal,  stopping  sometimes,  as 
we  heard,  in  the  village,  and  sometimes  under  the  windows 
of  the  pretty  girls  at  Blois,  and  my  young  sister-in-law  loved 


130'  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

to  be  with  me,  and  particularly  with  my  mother,  who  was 
nearly  as  much  of  a  child  as  she  was  herself.  We  made  a 
large  family  party,  but  every  one  was  happy  in  our  quiet  life, 
which  was  not  ruffled  by  the  quarrels  that  took  place  over 
the  card-table  between  my  mother  and  M.  Moyne. 

In  the  morning,  while  Joseph  and  his  father  were  playing 
duets,  I  would  beg  my  mother-in-law  for  one  of  the  stories 
which  she  told  admirably,  enhancing  the  interest  by  mingling 
the  true  with  the  false  in  the  most  artistic  manner. 

The  days  of  her  youth,  her  triumphs  and  glories,  and,  I 
may  add,  her  weaknesses,  all  passed  before  me,  and  it  must 
be  confessed  there  was  no  pretense  of  modesty;  but  benevo- 
lence and  large-mindedness  were  natural  to  her,  and  as  I  lis- 
tened I  could  well  understand  her  reply  to  some  one  who 
threw  the  name  of  Tallien  at  her  as  an  insult:  "It  is  true," 
she  said,  "I  was  Madame  Tallien,  and  it  was  under  that 
name  that  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  save  your  life." 

How  clever  she  was !  If  she  had  been  a  man  she  would 
have  had  a  high  place  in  history. 

My  father-in-law  played  the  violin  exceedingly  well,  and 
my  dear  little  Henry  compared  him  to  Paganini,  and  would 
listen  for  hours  perfectly  entranced  to  the  concerts  given  us 
by  the  father  and  sons. 

Our  Collector-of-Taxes  at  that  time  was  the  young  Baron 
Leberbier  de  Tinan;  he  was  deep  in  the  Young-France  move- 
ment, wore  gray  trousers  and  no  gloves,  and  though  attached 
to  the  finance  department  he  was  brimful  of  sentiment,  and 
belonged  to  that  romantic  school,  now  quite  out  of  fashion. 


MEMOIRS  131 


He  came  to  the  house,  and  Louise,  whose  eyes  were  every- 
where, laughed  at  him,  but  would  give  him  a  soft  yet  light- 
ning glance,  nevertheless.  As  we  shall  see  later  on,  the  poor 
young  man  had  his  little  secret  romance,  much  encouraged, 
I  must  admit,  by  an  outrageous  flirt. 

Dear,  kind  Doctor  Desfray  often  came,  and  through  his 
treatment  I  had  now  entirely  recovered.  The  Lezay-Mame- 
zias  were  frequent  guests,  as  the  prefect  had  taken  a  great 
fancy  to  my  husband,  and  altogether  we  saw  a  great  many 
people.  Ah !  what  a  happy  time  it  was,  and  how  far  away 
it  all  seems  now ! 

One  morning  they  came  to  tell  us  that  M.  de  Tinan  was 
very  ill,  and  from  the  expression  of  the  servant's  face  I  saw 
that  there  was  something  queer  about  this  illness.  We  finally 
heard  that  inspired  by  hopeless  love — or  perhaps  by  the  story 
of  Escousse  and  Lebas, — he  had  taken  poison,  just  enough  to 
be  very  sick  and  very  interesting. 

To  me  this  all  seemed  contemptible,  and  it  was  also  an- 
noying to  my  family,  and  gave  Louise  the  opportunity  for 
various  theatrical  demonstrations,  ending  with  cramps  in  the 
stomach,  and  putting  her  brother  completely  out  of  patience. 
After  this  foolish  exhibition  they  all  went  away,  and  it  was 
high  time,  for  I  was  beginning  to  feel  very  poorly,  though  I 
did  not  mind  it,  as  I  knew  that  I  was  pregnant  for  the  second 
time. 

My  husband  was  much  taken  up  with  the  idea  of  a  college 
that  he  wished  to  found,  and  we  kept  Alphonse  with  us  as  a 
boarder;  he  and  a  young  lawyer,  our  mayor's  son,  paid  court 


132  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

to  my  mother,  which,  devoted  as  it  was,  gave  us  no  anxiety. 

This  time  I  took  the  greatest  care  of  myself;  no  more  long 
walks  and  drives  ...  I  had  no  need  of  amusement,  but 
none  the  less  enjoyed  the  winter,  and  what  rapture  it  was  to 
feel  the  child  stir  within  me;  my  dear  Joseph's  child !  Noth- 
ing else  in  the  world  mattered  to  me  then  ,  .  .  and  for  this 
reason  I  will  say  little  of  a  dispute  that  took  place.  We  had 
a  friend  nicknamed  "Boaster"  on  account  of  some  problem- 
atic exploits  at  a  barricade;  he  quarrelled  with  Alphonse, 
who  made  this  little  awkwardness  an  excuse  to  leave  us  and 
escape  to  Holland. 

I  cannot  speak  much,  either,  of  our  college,  a  most  learned 
and  valuable  foundation,  no  doubt,  which  possibly  did  us 
good,  and  certainly  cost  us  a  great  deal  of  money,  but  I  must 
mention  that  Joseph  received  the  cross  of  St.  Georges,  which 
made  his  father  very  jealous.  My  husband  loved  decora- 
tions, and  they  were  so  becoming  to  him  that  I  could  not 
help  liking  them  myself.  At  the  time  of  our  marriage, 
though  a  handsome  youth,  he  was  rather  too  slight  and  deli- 
cate-looking, but  now,  at  the  end  of  a  year,  his  splendid  fig- 
ure had  filled  out,  he  had  an  air  of  robust  vigor,  and  his  com- 
plexion glowed  with  the  tints  of  health.  He  was  more  dis- 
tinguished than  fine  looking,  with  a  courtesy  beyond  mere 
beauty. 

The  Prytaneum  of  Menars  was  now  being  prepared,  and 
I  was  working  at  my  baby-clothes,  with  the  help  of  little 
Henry,  who  loved  to  arrange  the  tiny  shirts  and  caps.  He 
played  a  great  deal  with  a  boy  called  Eugene,  whose  mother 


MEMOIRS  133 


is  still  alive,  at  that  time  a  farm-girl  named  Justine.  Old 
father  Guerrier,  as  we  called  our  steward,  had  brought  her  in 
to  take  care  of  the  chickens,  and  there  was  some  gossip  be- 
cause the  boy  looked  so  like  him — a  handsome  little  chap  he 
was,  while  his  official  father  was  a  coarse,  rough  carter. 
Eugene  was  rather  rough,  but  1  became  attached  to  him,  and 
he  was  my  son's  inseparable  playmate. 

He  was  tall  for  his  age,  and  I  often  envied  his  strength  and 
his  handsome  face,  and  my  pride  as  a  mother  was  hurt  when 
strangers  complimented  me  on  the  beautiful  boy  whom  they 
took  for  mine,  while  my  poor  Henry,  small  and  rather  plain, 
was  supposed  to  be  the  humble  companion  of  M.  le  Comte. 

Spring  had  hardly  come,  when  a  horrible  disease  ravaged 
Paris  and  the  districts  around  Blois  as  well.  The  cholera  had 
appeared  in  France  at  the  same  time  as  the  Republic,  but 
had  lasted  longer,  and  following  its  example  had  now  returned 
to  level  all  ranks  and  fortunes,  which  were  reduced  to  a  sad 
equality  before  this  frightful  scourge.  The  hospitals  were  as 
crowded  as  the  cemeteries;  there  were  not  enough  nurses, 
doctors,  or  priests,  nor  men  enough  for  the  sad  and  dreadful 
task  of  burying  the  dead.  Great  furniture-vans  were  pressed 
into  the  service  to  transport  the  piles  of  coffins,  but  were  in- 
sufficient for  the  number  of  those  struck  down  each  day  by 
the  fell  disease. 

Things  were  not  quite  so  bad  at  Blois,  but  the  place  was 
panic-stricken;  people  shunned  one  another,  and  the  physi- 
cians, forgetting  that  there  were  other  sicknesses,  ordered 
cholera  medicines  for  every  complaint. 


134  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

Under  these  circumstances,  on  the  30th  of  April,  1832,  I 
began  to  feel  the  first  labor  pains.  Our  good  Prosper  went 
for  M.  Desfray,  and,  though  I  suffered,  Joseph  was  beside 
me;  my  poor  mother,  the  nurse,  and  Clementine  were  there 
also.  The  doctor  encouraged  me,  and  I  could  see  in  his  kind 
face  how  much  he  felt  my  sufferings.  Judging  by  my  recent 
experience,  I  thought  that  I  had  nights  and  days  of  agony 
before  me.  I  could  not  believe  that  I  should  soon  be  de- 
livered. M.  Desfray  smiled  when  in  an  attack  of  pain  I 
grasped  at  his  beautiful  white  hair;  he  gently  released  him- 
self, while  1  kept  crying  that  the  baby  would  not  come  for  a 
long  time,  but  in  the  midst  of  horrible  torture  I  heard  the 
first  faint  cry,  so  sweet  that  it  can  never  be  forgotten,  and 
that  I  had  not  heard  before !  That  first  joy  of  motherhood 
in  the  midst  of  tears  was  followed  by  many,  many  others, 
but  mercifully  I  could  not  foresee  that  this  much-desired 
baby,  given  to  us  all  as  an  added  joy,  would  die  some  years 
before  that  brother  who  met  her  on  the  threshold  of  life  with 
such  touching,  childlike  'pleasure. 

It  was  a  girl,  just  as  I  had  hoped,  for  there  could  be  no 
rivalry  with  Henry;  he  would  still  be  my  only  son.  I  sent 
for  him,  so  that  he  should  be  the  first  to  kiss  his  little  sister, 
and  it  seems  to  me  I  can  see  him  now  as  his  stepfather  car- 
ried him  in.  He  had  a  little  velvet  cap  embroidered  in  gold 
pulled  down  on  his  head,  and  seemed  a  little  frightened,  but 
looked  tenderly  at  the  new-bom  infant.  "What  do  you 
think  of  it?"  I  asked  him.  "It  is  like  the  little  brother  I 
had,"  he  said. 


MEMOIRS  135 


I  began  to  cry,  and  saw  tears  in  the  eyes  of  those  around 
me.     Dear  Doctor  Desfray  was  especially  touched. 

It  had  been  decided  that  I  was  to  nurse  my  baby,  and  I 
entered  at  once  on  this  sweet  but  exacting  task.  While  my 
milk  was  coming  I  was  quite  ill,  and  then  I  caught  a  fever, 
which  naturally  affected  the  infiint;  Henry,  too,  was  sick  at 
the  same  time,  and  the  cholera  still  raged,  but  in  spite  of  all 
these  adverse  conditions,  I  recovered  and  was  out  of  bed 
when  we  heard  of  my  father's  illness.  As  there  was  also  a 
great  deal  of  smallpox  at  this  time  in  Blois,  we  hastily  vac- 
cinated my  little  Emilie,  and  the  day  after  my  mother  started 
for  Paris. 

My  father  was  suffering  from  an  abscess,  and  the  doctors 
in  Paris  and  Blois  had  given  him  stimulants,  supposing  that 
he  had  contracted  the  epidemic.  Inflammation  set  in,  and 
he  grew  very  much  worse,  but  finally  got  better,  and  after 
six  weeks  or  so  mother  came  back  and  found  us  both  in  a 
flourishing  condition.  My  daughter  had  been  fat  at  first 
but  was  now  three  times  the  size;  she  had  big  eyes,  with  fine 
black  eyebrows,  and  a  pale  Italian  skin  that  Murillo  would 
have  loved  to  paint;  but  with  all  this  I  could  see  that  my 
mother  did  not  think  her  pretty,  and  could  only  hope  for  the 
future. 

The  head  master  of  our  new  school  was  to  be  M.  Sauriac, 
a  republican  from  Gascony,  and  a  very  witty,  agreeable  man, 
but  perhaps  not  of  the  strictest  moral  character;  however, 
we  went  to  Paris  about  this  time  to  engage  professors  to 
teach  under  him,  and  on  our  return  we  found  that  M.  de 


136  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

Graeb  had  been  appointed  military  commissioner  at  Blois, 
so  we  hoped  soon  to  see  my  aunt.  Graeb  himself  was  the 
first  to  arrive,  as  Amable  and  her  Httle  boy — now  eighteen 
months  old — had  stopped  at  my  grandmother's;  Graeb  set 
out  in  search  of  lodgings,  but  the  first  thing  he  picked  up  was 
an  attack  of  gout  so  severe  that  he  had  to  go  to  bed,  at 
Menars,  luckily  for  him  ! 

In  those  days  Amable  was  still  ideally  beautiful,  and  she 
literally  dazzled  Joseph,  who  never  forgot  her  lovely  face. 
She  and  her  little  Charles  were  like  a  Virgin  of  Albano  with 
a  Murillo  in  her  arms. 

They  stayed  some  time  with  us,  and  then  settled  down  at 
Blois,  where  Amable  was  a  charming  recruit  for  the  regiment 
of  pretty  women  who  were  there  then,  more  than  1  ever  saw 
together  before  or  since;  even  without  counting  us,  the  Blois 
drawing-rooms  could  well  boast  of  their  number. 

With  the  spring  Joseph's  mother  came  back  to  us  with 
Louise,  who  was  still  handsomer  than  before;  her  skin  was  as 
white  as  ermine,  and  she  had  true  Spanish  eyes,  which  she 
took  no  pains  to  hide,  but  if  my  poor  mama-in-law  had  her 
hands  full  with  her  own  daughter,  mine  bade  fair  to  be  a  joy 
to  her,  and  she  admitted  that  the  child  was  like  her,  even  to 
her  dark  complexion;  she  too,  she  said,  had  been  as  black  as 
a  plum  in  her  babyhood.  I  was  feeling  excessively  tired  and 
run  down  just  then,  and,  though  the  baby  was  weaned,  that 
brought  me  no  relief,  so  that  at  times  I  could  hardly  stand 
up.  My  mother  had  been  to  Paris,  which  was  then  no  light 
undertaking,  as  it  took  from  fourteen  to  fifteen  hours,  even 


MEMOIRS  137 


if  one's  carriage  did  not  break  down  on  the  frightfully  bad 
Orleans  road;  I  had  something  to  do  at  Blois,  so  Louise  and 
I  went  there,  and  though  I  was  feeling  wretchedly  ill  when  I 
got  back,  I  dressed  and  came  down  to  dinner. 

I  was  suffering  a  great  deal  of  pain,  but  fought  against  it 
till  we  all  left  the  table,  and  I  went  out  into  the  court  to 
look  for  my  husband,  who  was  standing  a  short  distance  off, 
with  M.  Moyne.  All  at  once  a  sharp  pain  shot  through  me, 
as  if  I  were  torn  in  two;  I  could  resist  no  longer,  and,  losing 
consciousness  completely,  I  fell  insensible  on  the  gravel 
walk. 

I  came  to  myself  in  Joseph's  arms,  as  he  was  trying  to  lift 
me,  but  he  was  so  agitated  that  he  was  obliged  to  allow  M. 
Moyne  to  carry  me  to  my  room.  Our  dear  doctor  was 
quickly  sent  for,  but  after  some  hours  of  anxiety  and  suffer- 
ing, I  again  miscarried.  I  had  not  known  of  my  condition, 
but  had  thought  merely  that  I  was  growing  very  stout. 

They  had  put  me  on  a  cot  bed  and  were  hoping  that  the 
worst  was  over,  when  most  frightful  and  dangerous  symp- 
toms alarmed  the  doctor  beyond  concealment.  He  promptly 
applied  every  remedy  within  reach,  but  within  an  hour  I  was 
in  mortal  danger. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  tell  of  the  strange  thoughts  that 
passed  through  my  mind;  while  for  some  days  I  was  seriously 
ill,  nevertheless  I  can  look  back  with  pleasure  on  the  care 
and  affection  lavished  on  me.  Even  the  coquettish  Louise, 
my  mother,  and  above  all  my  darling  Joseph,  nursed  me 
with  the  utmost  devotion,  taking  turns  in  sitting  with  me. 


138  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

and  thus  tended  I  felt  I  should  soon  come  back  to  life  and 
health.  At  the  end  of  a  month  I  was  weak  and  thin,  it  is 
true,  but  well  enough  to  enjoy  a  grand  birthday  party  given 
in  my  honor  by  the  pupils  of  the  two  schools  that  we  had 
founded — and  handsomely  endowed. 

Louise,  unfortunately,  was  not  a  beginner,  and  as  soon  as 
she  arrived  anywhere,  there  was  sure  to  be  some  story  told 
of  her  in  which  a  man  figured,  mixed  up  with  a  good  deal  of 
coquetry — to  say  no  worse.  .  .  .  This  time  the  hero  did  not 
poison  himself,  for  the  part  was  taken  by  our  friend,  Sauriac, 
who  preferred  an  exchange  of  alluring  glances  to  the  finest 
poetry,  and  he  and  my  sister-in-law — who  was  thoughtless 
and  very  much  to  blame — had  got  up  a  little  romance  be- 
tween them,  which  promised  badly  for  the  honor  of  the 
family. 

It  was  I  who  found — the  Lord  knows  where ! — some  scraps 
of  paper  covered  with  burning  phrases,  which  must  have  been 
surprised  at  the  end  of  their  career.  As  I  foresaw  a  disagree- 
able and  possibly  disgraceful  termination  to  the  aff"air,  I 
showed  my  discovery  to  my  mother-in-law.  This  was,  un- 
fortunately, not  her  first  experience  of  the  sort,  so  she  decided 
to  leave  at  once,  and  we  went  with  them.  I  must  admit  that 
I  did  all  in  my  power  to  avoid  unpleasant  explanations  of  our 
sudden  departure. 

We  came  back  to  Menars  at  the  end  of  ten  days,  and  to  me 
fell  the  task  of  conveying  the  idea  gently  to  "our  friend" 
Sauriac  that  admirable  as  his  methods  of  education  might  be 
for  boys,  his  manners  with  ladies  did  not  recommend  him  to 


MEMOIRS  139 


the  respect  of  his  subordinates;  so  he  was  obHged  to  seek 
some  other  spot  where  his  hot  southern  blood  and  his  ten- 
der heart  might  mature  at  leisure — though  I  doubt  if  the 
heart  had  much  to  do  with  it. 

Shortly  before,  my  husband  had  engaged  a  young  man 
named  Blanchon  as  secretary,  bookkeeper,  and  professor  of 
commerce.  He  had  a  handsome  face  and  curly  hair,  aflFected 
loud  waistcoats,  and  wore  many  rings  on  hands  not  over- 
clean.  He  talked  in  an  amiable,  high-flown  style — was,  in 
short,  the  most  perfect  counter-jumper  and  drummer  possi- 
ble to  see.  We  sent  him  off  to  find  us  a  new  head  master, 
for  we  had  had  them  of  every  sort  and  kind  of  opinion,  put- 
ting us  through  varied  experiences.  The  list  of  our  profes- 
sors, though  long,  would  not  be  found  interesting,  with  the 
exception  of  M.  and  Mme.  Renard,  who  were  my  friends. 

M.  Renard  was  our  drawing-master,  and  his  wife  was  a 
very  clever,  agreeable  woman,  whom  I  loved  to  have  with 
me,  though  this  aroused  jealous  feelings  in  the  breast  of  Mme. 
Delisle,  whose  husband  was  our  new  Collector-of-Taxes,  in 
the  place  of  the  too-sentimental  M.  de  Tinan. 

The  Delisles  were  a  singular  and  comical  couple;  he  was  a 
sort  of  rose-water  man  of  letters,  looking  like  a  superannu- 
ated pink-and-white  cherub,  while  his  wife — who  had  a  per- 
ceptible beard — made  a  most  absurd  contrast,  posing  as  a 
sentimental  Juno.  They  had  a  H6teI-de-Rambouillet  air 
about  them,  and  M.  Delisle  would  have  liked  to  weave  a 
poetic  garland  for  his  wife,  but,  unfortunately,  her  name  of 
"Julienne"  suggested  soup  more  than  flowers. 


140  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

They  were  both  inquisitive  and  familiar,  so  that  my  moth- 
er-in-law was  sorry  she  had  encouraged  them  at  first,  while  I 
found  nothing  to  like  in  either,  and  kept  them  at  a  distance. 

Our  family-in-law  had  spent  the  winter  at  Chimay,  greatly 
to  the  annoyance  of  Louise,  and  we  now  heard  from  there 
that  the  Princess  was  very  ill  and  kept  her  bed;  her  heart- 
disease,  having  increased,  caused  pain  and  swelling  of  the 
extremities,  and  she  was  anxious  to  see  her  son. 

We  made  our  preparations  and  left  our  Eden,  stopping  a 
few  days  in  Paris  to  get  some  new  clothes,  and  then  began 
our  journey.  In  my  landau  were  my  mother,  Joseph,  myself, 
and  old  Minin,  who  held  our  two-years-old  daughter,  while 
Henry  sat  on  our  laps.  The  maids  followed  in  a  light  car- 
riage, and  it  took  us  about  three  days  to  reach  Chimay. 

By  such  roads  as,  I  am  glad  to  say,  no  longer  exist,  at  four 
or  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  I  first  saw  the  place  for  which 
I  was  to  change  my  smiling  Menars,  and  the  comparison 
was  by  no  means  flattering.  The  misty  April  evening  threw 
a  melancholy  veil  over  the  landscape,  and  we  approached  the 
house  by  the  back  way  to  avoid  the  noise  of  carriage-wheels, 
which  might  have  disturbed  the  Princess,  who  was  much 
more  seriously  ill  than  they  had  told  us. 

A  note  was  brought  us  from  Louise  to  say  that  her  mother 
was  worse  and  unable  to  leave  a  mechanical  bed  which  had 
been  put  up  for  her,  so  it  was  old  Dawent,  wearing  the  six 
stripes  on  his  arm  in  proof  of  his  sixty  years  of  service,  who 
was  the  first  to  bid  me  welcome.    We  left  our  carriages  at 


MEMOIRS  141 


Bergeau,  and  climbed  up  the  steep  ascent  to  the  chiteau, 
while  Louise  waved  to  us  from  the  tower. 

It  was  thought  best  for  us  not  to  see  my  mother-in-law 
that  evening  for  fear  of  giving  her  a  bad  night,  so  we  went 
to  our  rooms,  where  everything  showed  traces  of  Louise's 
thoughtful  care.  She  had  embroidered  our  initials  on  the 
curtains,  and  arranged  our  rooms  and  beds  for  the  children. 
She  was  sincerely  glad  to  see  us,  for  it  was  her  nature  to  be 
gracious  and  attentive,  good-tempered  and  easy  to  get  on 
with.  We  began  to  feel  a  real  affection  for  her;  no  one  could 
have  believed  that  so  charming  a  person  had,  unfortunately, 
no  heart ! 

I  recall  my  extreme  surprise  at  the  bareness  and  lack  of 
comfort  in  that  poor  old  castle  of  Chimay.  Though  my 
mother-in-law  was  so  ill,  she  had  no  carpet,  not  even  a  good 
armchair  in  her  bedroom,  and  there  would  not  have  been  an 
eiderdown  quilt  on  her  bed  if  I  had  not  given  her  one  at 
Christmas  that  same  year. 

When  I  compare  what  the  chateau  is  now  with  what  it 
was  on  our  first  visit,  I  cannot  understand  how  they  stood 
it;  you  sat  perched  up  on  high,  hard  chairs,  your  feet  chilled 
by  cold  drafts,  and  with  a  disgusting  kitchen  smell  which 
blew  right  into  the  drawing-room. 

The  Princess  was  glad  to  see  us,  and  my  father-in-law 
wanted  at  once  to  show  me  his  park,  of  which  he  was  justly 
proud.  M.  Moyne,  doubtful  as  usual,  held  the  scales,  but 
not  always  with  perfect  justice,  except  for  once  when  he  nobly 
took  the  weaker  side.    Mme.  de  Pellet  had  come  to  see  her 


142  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

mother,  and  being  certainly  entitled  to  every  attention,  I  am 
glad  to  remember  that  in  spite  of  her  touchiness  and  the  dis- 
agreeable remarks  she  often  made,  I  never  vexed  or  thwarted 
her  embittered  temper  by  an  impatient  word. 

For  my  first  walk  at  Chimay  1  went  to  church,  to  that  fine 
cathedral  of  our  "empire"  where  they  now  lie  whose  guests 
we  then  were,  and  I  went  all  over  the  splendid,  well-kept 
park,  for  which  art  and  nature  have  done  so  much,  where 
everything  is  picturesque,  but  full  of  a  profound  and  tender 
sadness. 

On  account  of  my  mother-in-law's  illness,  the  official  re- 
ception which  should  have  been  given  in  our  honor  was  post- 
poned; and,  in  point  of  fact,  we  never  had  any  entertainment 
at  all. 

We  spent  several  weeks  at  Chimay,  and  I  do  not  really 
remember  why  we  did  not  stay  longer  yet,  for  we  enjoyed 
ourselves  part  of  the  time,  though  nothing  remarkable  hap- 
pened. My  father-in-law  was  very  kind  to  little  Henry, 
outsider  though  he  was,  and  the  Princess  loved  her  grand- 
daughter and  saw  her  every  day,  though  she  did  regret  the 
absence  of  a  boy.  She  would  have  loved  to  see  a  little  Jo- 
seph, but  that  joy  was  denied  her.  When  I  kissed  her  at 
parting  I  did  not  think  that  I  should  never  see  her  again — 
but  I  do  not  pity  her  now,  for  God  was  good  and  took  her 
the  first. 

When  we  got  back  to  Paris  I  engaged  a  new  nurse  for 
Henry,  and  just  then  he  fell  ill  of  a  catarrhal  rever,  and  as 


MEMOIRS  143 


it  was  a  fairly  bad  case  I  took  care  of  him  as  well  as  I  knew 
how,  and  was  glad  enough  to  bring  him  back  to  our  dear 
M6nars  completely  cured. 

Living  as  we  did  in  the  country,  I  did  not  often  see  any  of 
the  de  Brigode  family,  but  always  kept  up  the  correspon- 
dence with  my  brother-in-law;  every  year  we  exchanged  lit- 
tle New  Year's  gifts,  and  my  nieces  Georgine  and  Gabrielle 
did  fancy-work  for  me,  to  which  I  responded  by  some  pres- 
ent. I  planned  that  my  godchild  Noemie  should  be  my 
future  daughter-in-law,  and  Adrien,  who  was  scarcely  two 
years  younger  than  Henry,  was  certainly  to  be  his  intimate 
friend. 

I  went  to  see  them  whenever  I  was  in  Paris,  and  was  not 
only  well  received,  but  they  treated  Joseph  like  a  brother. 
Henry  was  a  bond  between  us,  and  his  uncles  began  to  appre- 
ciate the  character  of  the  stepfather  I  had  given  him. 

After  that  little  illness,  the  autumn  passed  off  well  for 
Henry;  his  sister,  who  was  growing  fast,  was  a  nice  playmate 
for  him;  he  was  very  patient  with  her,  and  never  cross, 
though  she  was  often  naughty,  being  extremely  spoiled.  My 
old  nurse,  whom  we  called  Minin,  indulged  her  so  foolishly 
that  I  thought  of  putting  her  in  the  care  of  Henry's  maid, 
while  I  sent  my  rival  Minin  for  a  visit  to  her  family. 

In  the  middle  of  the  winter  we  learned  that  Alphonse  had 
fallen  in  love  with  his  cousin,  Rosalie  de  Caraman,  and  in- 
sisted on  marrying  her,  though  not  long  before  he  had  done 
everything  in  the  world  to  obtain  the  hand  of  Mile,  de  Beau- 
villiers.    He  was  crazy  about  all  women,  and  his  passions, 


144  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

more  sudden  than  sincere,  hurried  him  along  so  fast  that  the 
idea  had  occurred  to  him  to  change  only  the  Christian  name 
of  one  of  his  romances,  as  he  had  not  really  time  to  alter  it 
for  each  one  of  his  numerous  flames.  I  thought  that  Rosalie, 
the  last  on  the  list,  must  have  had  at  least  half  the  calendar. 
His  cousin's  engagement  had  been  broken  off,  leaving  her 
free,  so  he  obtained  his  wish  this  time,  and  we  went  to  Paris 
for  the  wedding;  unfortunately  my  mother-in-law  was  too 
ill  to  be  present. 

I  was  not  a  gay  companion,  as  I  was  feeling  very  poorly, 
and  took  to  my  bed  as  soon  as  we  arrived,  where  I  stayed  for 
ten  days  and  then  went  home  without  even  having  seen  the 
wedding !  I  did  not  like  to  say  what  was  the  matter  with 
me,  it  was  really  too  absurd — a  carbuncle !  But  I  had  to 
receive  my  future  sister-in-law  in  my  bed.  She  was  not 
pretty  nor  well  made,  but  she  had  distinction  and  elegance; 
the  restlessness  of  all  the  Caramans  and  their  nervous,  hur- 
ried way  of  speaking.  They  had  a  little  the  overexcited 
manner  of  a  man  who  feels  a  flea,  but  I  have  since  heard  it 
called  wit  and  liveliness ! 

I  have  come  since  then  to  think  her  very  charming,  and 
that  first  day  I  was  in  no  condition  to  judge  of  her,  in  misery 
as  I  was,  and  all  done  up  in  poultices;  it  really  was  the  worst 
of  luck ! 

Louise  had  seized  the  opportunity  to  get  away  from  Chi- 
may,  where  she  was  bored  to  death;  she  and  her  father  were 
like  two  boys  let  out  of  school.  They  hinted  that  the  Prin- 
cess was  not  as  ill  as  people  said,  that  she  had  stayed  away 


THE  BLUE-ENAMEL  WATCH  PRESENTED  TO  EMH^IE  DE  PELLAPRA  BY  THE 
EMPRESS  MARIE-LOUISE  ON  HER  VISIT  TO  CAEN 


MEMOIRS  145 


to  avoid  the  awkwardness  of  mingling  with  a  family  party 
where  she  had  never  been  welcome. 

I  thought  that  I  was  going  to  have  an  abscess,  and  knew 
that  I  could  not  appear  at  the  wedding,  so  we  bought  our 
present  and  left;  but  the  day  after  we  got  back  to  Menars 
M.  Desfray  laughed  at  the  Paris  doctors,  lanced  the  car- 
buncle, and  I  was  able  to  walk  immediately. 

Mother  was  enchanted  to  have  me  back,  for  she  had  slept 
in  my  place,  between  Henry's  bed  and  little  Minette's,  and 
they  had  been  very  naughty.  As  soon  as  he  woke  up  Henry 
called  out  to  her:  "Minette,  Minette,  Maman  isn't  here;  it's 
Gane!" — and  only  half-awake  she  sat  up,  rubbing  her  eyes, 
and  said  in  the  coolest  way : "  Let's  have  a  screaming  match !" 
"  Yes,  yes !"  shouted  Henry,  who  had  tears  in  his  eyes  al- 
ready. "Come,  begin!"  said  the  little  minx,  and  they  lay 
and  shrieked  for  an  hour  under  their  poor  grandmother's 
nose. 

These  two  children  adored  each  other;  Henry's  heart  fairly 
leapt  for  joy  at  all  her  pranks,  and  she  was  much  sharper  and 
cleverer  than  he.  He  admired  her  so  much  that  I  have  ac- 
tually seen  tears  in  his  eyes  as  he  watched  her  running,  and 
he  would  ask  me  to  look  at  her  lovely  brown  curls  and  notice 
how  prettily  they  fell  about  her  shoulders.  "  I  do  love  my 
little  Choum,"  he  would  often  say.  This  was  a  pet  name  he 
had  for  her  that  he  had  picked  up  out  of  some  song. 

We  heard  all  about  the  wedding  from  Louise,  and  she 
wrote  us,  also,  to  our  great  surprise,  that  as  her  mother  was 
much  better  she  meant  to  borrow  my  father's  carriage  and 


146  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

come  to  spend  some  months  at  Menars  with  me.  This  sud- 
den improvement  seemed  remarkable,  but  I  was  glad  to  wel- 
come my  dear  little  sister-in-law,  who  was  so  lonely  at  Chi- 
may  that  1  had  been  sorry  for  her. 

That  was  a  very  gay  winter  for  the  town  of  Blois.  There 
were  a  great  many  balls  given,  and  we  did  not  miss  a  single 
one,  and  in  a  group  of  exceptionally  pretty  women  our  family 
made  a  good  effect.  Mme.  de  Graeb,  Louise,  and  I  would 
have  ornamented  any  ballroom,  but  society  was  rich  in 
beauty  at  that  time.  Oddly  enough,  the  children  of  all  these 
pretty  mothers  did  not  inherit  their  good  looks;  I  was  per- 
haps the  only  one  fortunate  enough  to  admire  my  daughter. 

This  was  the  moment,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  when  we  really 
came  to  know  poor  Louise.  Up  to  this  time  she  had  been 
imprudent  and  flirtatious,  and  it  may  be  that  her  lack  of 
principles  and  education  had  led  her  into  graver  errors,  which 
might  be  viewed  leniently;  but  a  girl  who  concealed  the  con- 
dition of  her  dying  mother  and  left  her  alone  for  the  sake  of 
amusing  herself  in  society,  who  out  of  pure  selfishness  de- 
prived Mme.  de  Caraman  of  the  consolation  of  having  all 
her  children  around  her  in  her  last  moments;  such  a  girl  was 
a  bad  daughter  and  would  be  a  bad  mother. 

Louise  had  many  letters  from  Chimay,  but  she  never 
showed  them  to  us,  and  as  she  appeared  free  from  anxiety 
and  continued  to  enjoy  herself,  we  were  completely  deceived. 
We  came  home  one  night  from  a  dance  and  found  a  letter 
from  M.  Moyne,  which  Joseph  opened  without  the  faintest 


MEMOIRS  147 


suspicion  of  its  contents.  All  at  once  I  saw  him  turn  pale; 
he  hid  his  face  in  his  hands  as  he  cried  out:  "My  mother  is 
dead!" 

The  shock  naturally  was  terrible,  but  even  while  I  tried  to 
console  him  as  tenderly  as  I  could,  I  had  to  give  orders  about 
the  carriages,  for  we  meant  to  go  at  once  to  my  father-in- 
law,  who  was  at  Beaumont.  I  expected  to  find  him  in  de- 
spair, and  though  I  hated  to  leave  the  children,  I  felt  that 
our  place  was  by  his  side. 

There  was  little  delay  in  starting,  but  our  carriage  broke 
down  as  usual  at  the  gates  of  Paris,  so  we  could  not  leave 
there  until  the  next  day.  It  was  the  middle  of  January,  and 
such  a  night !  The  roads  were  covered  with  ice,  and  so  slip- 
pery that  we  could  only  move  at  a  foot's  pace,  and  did  not 
reach  Mons  till  the  middle  of  the  second  night.  We  had  to 
wait  there  several  hours  before  we  could  get  horses,  and  the 
next  morning,  in  a  driving  snow-storm,  we  arrived  at  Beau- 
mont. This  was  the  house — I  cannot  call  it  a  chiteau — of 
Count  Maurice  de  Caraman.  Our  hearts  were  full,  and  we 
had  come  hoping  to  comfort  the  son  and  father,  but  when  I 
threw  myself  impulsively  into  the  arms  of  the  latter,  he  was 
quite  calm  and  composed.  They  sat  down  and  talked  of  the 
bad  weather  and  the  roads;  Alphonse  devoted  himself  to  his 
wife,  and  my  father-in-law  was  evidently  happy  to  be  with 
my  husband.  Louise  already  began  to  make  eyes  at  her 
cousin,  Charles  de  Caraman,  who  tried  his  best  to  make  us 
comfortable  in  that  impossible  house !  Nothing  can  give  any 
idea  of  it.    They  made  up  a  bed  for  me  by  putting  a  sofa 


148  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

across  the  foot  of  a  mattress,  with  table-cloths  thrown  over 
it,  and  a  little  hole  next  door  had  to  do  for  Clementine. 
They  brought  me  water  in  an  old  flower-vase,  but  luckily  I 
had  my  dressing-case  with  me. 

M.  Moyne  could  not  believe  in  the  unworthy  trick  that 
Louise  had  played  on  us,  and  accused  Joseph  of  letting  his 
mother  die  away  from  us  all.  This  injustice  infuriated  my 
poor  husband,  who  was  the  only  one  who  truly  grieved  for 
his  mother,  and  was  already  so  unhappy  because  he  had  been 
unable  to  do  anything  for  her.  A  violent  quarrel  ensued,  and 
that  is  one  of  the  few  times  I  remember  seeing  my  dear  one 
really  angry.  I  tried  to  heal  these  wounds,  for  my  tender- 
ness could  alone  calm  and  soothe  his  pain.  My  poor  mother- 
in-law  would  have  been  surprised  if  she  could  have  seen  us 
at  dinner  less  than  a  week  after  her  death;  a  stranger  coming 
in  would  certainly  have  thought  that  Joseph  was  the  only 
son  of  the  deceased,  while  I  would  have  passed  for  the  daugh- 
ter of  her  who  was  gone  and  whose  empty  place  was  only 
felt  by  me. 

There  was  a  lawsuit  about  some  illegitimate  children  who 
tried  to  prove  themselves  Talliens  in  order  to  inherit  a  small 
part  of  the  property,  which  was  already  much  divided;  but  I 
must  confess  that  I  never  understood  much  about  a  subject 
that  was  extremely  unpleasant  to  me,  and  of  which  I  only 
speak  as  part  of  my  recollections.  It  was  decided  that  we 
had  better  return  to  Paris,  and  we  might  have  asked  our- 
selves why  we  had  come  at  all. 


MEMOIRS  149 


From  Paris  we  sent  them  all  a  general  invitation  to 
M6nars,  where  the  family  could  spend  the  first  months  of 
mourning  together;  my  mother  had  already  set  some  repairs 
on  foot  in  preparation  for  their  arrival.  It  was  delightful  to 
me  to  get  back  and  find  my  dear  little  ones  well,  and  my 
rooms  all  put  in  order  and  done  up  like  new.  The  gray  room 
was  now  red,  which  gave  it  a  festive  air  reflected  by  all  the 
faces  of  our  guests.  Poor  Princess !  how  little  you  were  re- 
gretted !  With  the  exception  of  Joseph,  whom  you  used  to 
call  cold,  there  was  not  one  who  mourned  for  you  in  his  heart. 

The  Alphonses  spent  their  day  driving  or  in  the  saddle,  and 
the  evening  at  the  piano,  so  they  were  not  at  all  in  our  way. 
Louise  was  a  great  deal  with  my  mother,  and  as  usual  I  kept 
close  to  my  husband  and  children.  I  saw  much  of  Amable 
and  her  big  girl,  of  whom  I  was  very  fond.  She  used  to  come 
over  to  Menars  with  her  brother  Charles,  but  she  said  we  had 
too  many  people  in  the  house. 

Louise  did  not  get  on  with  her  sister-in-law,  Rosalie,  with 
whom  she  often  exchanged  acrid  remarks;  and  she  also  was 
crazy  to  get  married,  but  all  the  same  she  never  failed  to  cast 
encouraging  glances  at  poor  Blanchon,  much  to  his  astonish- 
ment. There  was  a  story  going  about,  partly  false,  and 
partly,  I  fear,  true,  in  which  a  window  and  a  rope-ladder 
figured,  and  this  made  my  husband  more  than  ever  anxious 
to  marry  off  a  sister  so  difficult  to  manage. 

We  had  a  neighbor — Count  de  Beaucorps-Cr^qui,  formerly 
of  the  Body-Guard — ^who  was  a  great  marriage-monger;  he 
came  to  see  my  father-in-law  one  day  on  behalf  of  a  friend  of 


150  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

his,  whom  he  highly  recommended  as  a  son-in-law.  He  was 
an  officer  of  the  Guards,  Comte  du  Hallay-Coetquen,  a  Bre- 
ton gentleman  of  high  birth;  indeed,  the  Coetquens  were  de- 
scended from  Gaelic  kings!  So  he  was  received  and  even 
encouraged.  But,  oh  heavens !  through  what  horrible  com- 
plications did  this  proposed  marriage  bring  about  the  tor- 
ment, the  misery  of  my  life,  and  ruin  the  happiness  of  my 
unfortunate,  dearly  loved  son. 

I  know  that  I  ought  not  to  anticipate  my  story  in  this  way, 
but  I  cannot  keep  my  pen  from  recording  the  overflowing  bit- 
terness of  my  heart;  I  will  try  to  make  no  further  allusion  to 
this  unhappy  subject,  and,  indeed,  1  feel  that  this  history  has 
neither  interest  nor  action;  even  my  recollections  are  not  all 
here,  and  for  me  alone  can  there  be  a  melancholy  pleasure  in 
looking  back  at  that  past  which  now  swells  my  heart  with 
regret. 

These  tentative  proposals  as  to  M.  du  Hallay  must  have 
been  toward  the  end  of  March,  for  I  remember  a  rather 
amusing  trick  that  I  made  so  bold  as  to  play  ofi^  on  the  family 
on  the  I  St  of  April,  the  fun  of  which  comes  back  strangely 
enough  to  me  now. 

Poor  Mme.  de  Pellet  had  taken  up  a  very  unpleasant  atti- 
tude toward  us  in  the  famous  "bastard"  suit,  and  was  liked 
by  no  one;  besides,  apart  from  her  touchy,  difficult  temper, 
she  persisted  in  talking  of  things  that  happened  forty  or  fifty 
years  ago,  to  the  intense  annoyance  of  her  stepfather,  who 
wanted  to  be  thought  as  young  as  he  was  well-turned-out. 

He  was  childish  enough  to  dislike  her  more  on  account  of 


MEMOIRS  151 


this  habit  of  hers  than  for  any  other  reason,  and  my  husband 
could  not  bear  to  have  his  father  bothered;  then,  Louise's 
head  was  full  of  her  future  husband,  and  the  Alphonses  never 
allowed  anything  on  earth  to  interfere  with  their  comfort. 

Knowing  all  this,  I  laid  my  little  plan  all  by  myself,  taking 
no  one  into  my  confidence,  like  a  true  conspirator.  Poor, 
dear  Joseph,  my  first  victim,  came  home  from  his  ride,  and 
had  hardly  set  foot  to  the  ground  when  I  called  to  him  in  a 
most  excited  manner:  "Have  you  seen  her?  You  were  out 
and  I  didn't  know  what  to  do,  so  I  put  her  in  No.  8;  I  could 
not  send  her  away !  You  ought  to  go  and  speak  to  her,  and 
then  tell  your  father !    I  really  did  not  dare !" 

"Who  is  it?  Who  has  come?  I  don't  know  what  you 
are  talking  about !"  said  the  bewildered  Joseph. 

"  Did  no  one  tell  you  that  Mme.  de  Pellet  came  by  the 
early  diligence?" 

"The  devil !  I  must  go  right  up  to  papa !"  And  off  he 
went,  without  listening  to  my  entreaties  that  he  would  do  the 
civil  by  his  sister. 

Without  losing  a  moment,  I  sent  word  to  Louise  to  dress 
herself,  because  M.  du  Hallay  was  coming  to  lunch,  and  told 
them  also  to  let  my  mother  know  that  there  was  a  large  box 
from  Paris  waiting  for  her  at  the  post-oflfice.  As  for  the  Al- 
phonses, the  fatal  news  of  Mme.  de  Pellet's  arrival  had 
reached  them  through  the  disturbance  in  the  house,  and 
though  no  one  had  actually  seen  the  enemy,  they  would  all 
have  sworn  that  she  was  in  her  room. 

Lunch  was  served,  the  two  bells  were  rung,  but  I  alone  ap- 
peared, rubbing  my  hands  with  delight.    No  one  else  came 


152  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

down.  I  sent  up  for  my  father-in-law;  he  was  not  feeling 
well,  and  Joseph  had  to  take  care  of  him,  Rosalie  too  was  in- 
disposed and  needed  Alphonse,  Louise  was  dressing,  and 
mama  had  gone  to  the  village.  I  was  laughing  when  she 
came  in,  perfectly  furious;  she  had  asked  for  her  box,  but  no 
one  knew  anything  about  it.  She  could  not  guess  what  was 
in  it?    "Fresh  sardines,  perhaps?"  said  I  gently. 

"  You  little  wretch !  Just  wait  till  I  catch  you !  But  why 
pick  out  poor,  unsuspecting  me?" 

"You  are  not  the  only  one.  You  will  see!  Where  is 
Mile.  Louise?" 

"She  will  not  come  down,"  whispered  one  of  the  servants. 

"Go  up  and  tell  her  that  the  fish  is  all  cooked,  and  that 
she  must  come  and  eat  it  with  the  family." 

Louise  flew  in,  ready  to  beat  me,  and  in  escaping  from  her 
I  ran  into  Joseph's  arms,  who  could  make  nothing  out  of  our 
shouts  of  laughter,  and,  like  a  coward  at  bay,  wanted  to  avoid 
his  sister  at  any  price.  We  sent  messages  to  the  others,  but 
finally  had  to  go  and  fetch  them,  so  great  was  my  father-in- 
law's  terror  of  Mme.  de  Pellet  and  her  memory. 

When  we  got  them  all  together  at  last,  they  ran  after  me 
and  chased  me  like  a  hare;  and  the  famous  general  April  Fool 
is  still  remembered  m  the  family. 

This  silly  joke  of  mine  was  prophetic,  for  from  that  day 
we  were  indeed  April  Fools  in  the  sense  that  we  were  sadly 
and  painfully  deceived. 

The  Alphonses  had  been  gone  but  a  short  time  when  M.  de 
Beaucorps-Crequi  brought  M.  du  Hallay  to  see  us.    The 


MEMOIRS  153 


grimmest  kind  of  a  future  husband !  It  was  impossible  to 
imagine  that  the  elegant,  coquettish  Louise  could  be  induced 
to  marry  this  Bluebeard,  who  had  not  even  a  fairy  palace  for 
her !  I  asked  myself  how  she  could  do  it,  while  to  my  great 
astonishment  I  observed  that  the  suspicious  eyes  of  this 
fierce-looking  gentleman  were  fixed  on  me  with  a  most  ad- 
miring expression. 

Thinking  that  I  could  have  nothing  to  do  with  this  soldier 
of  the  guard,  I  supposed  merely  that  he  was  trying  to  win 
me  over  to  his  cause,  and  took  no  further  notice  of  the  eyes, 
which  were  not  quite  alike,  and  it  was  not  till  the  end  of  the 
visit  that  I  learned,  though  I  was  not  much  flattered,  that  he 
had  mistaken  me  for  the  future  lady  of  his  thoughts,  that  I 
had  appeared  to  him  as  the  realization  of  his  fondest  dreams 
(his  exact  words),  and  that  they  had  had  all  the  trouble  in 
the  world  before  they  could  persuade  him  to  conceal  his  dis- 
appointment and  exchange  my  blue  eyes  for  a  finer  pair  of 
large  dark  ones. 

"The  Lord  save  me  from  such  a  man !"  I  cried  from  the 
bottom  of  my  heart,  but  oh !  if  he  only  would  have  saved  me 
also  from  everything  connected  with  him. 

M.  du  Hallay  had  married  the  beautiful  and  rich  heiress  of 
his  older  brother;  they  had  several  children,  but  only  one 
survived,  a  little  girl  four  or  five  years  old,  who  would  come 
into  a  handsome  fortune,  but  in  the  meantime  the  father  en- 
joyed the  daughter's  large  income. 

I  was  strongly  opposed  to  the  match,  which  seemed  to  me 
positively  revolting,  and  we  said  all  we  could  to  prevent 


154  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

Louise  from  consenting.  We  represented  to  her  the  disparity 
in  age,  and  then  there  was  M.  du  Hallay's  reputation  as  a 
duellist,  his  silly,  boastful  habits,  his  absurd  vanity,  the  com- 
bination in  a  high  degree  of  pretentiousness  and  insignifi- 
cance. It  was  all  useless,  and  we  were  obliged  to  let  her 
agree  to  a  marriage  bad  enough  in  the  present,  but  ten  times 
worse  for  the  future. 

I  do  not  know  what  fatality,  what  fears,  perhaps,  urged 
her  on,  but  she  was  engaged,  and  then  began  a  series  of  un- 
lucky marriages  for  Menars. 

Mile.  Thierry,  the  pretty  daughter  of  the  manager  of  the 
Prytaneum,  a  most  charming,  attractive  girl,  was  to  be  mar- 
ried at  the  same  time  and  place;  so,  in  the  month  of  May,  at 
Menars,  Louise  left  off  mourning  for  her  mother  before  the 
usual  time,  and  was  married.  The  chapel  looked  so  beautiful 
all  dressed  with  flowers  that  it  would  have  brought  good 
fortune  to  any  people  who  loved  one  another.  It  was  I  who 
adorned  the  bride  for  the  ceremony,  and  she  looked  wonder- 
fully handsome  and  charming — a  houri,  a  peri,  an  enchant- 
ing woman  she  was,  but  in  spite  of  all  I  could  do,  of  the 
orange  flowers  and  the  white  satin,  here  was  no  blushing 
maiden;  the  veil  was  there,  but  it  did  not  hide  modesty  and 
innocence. 

After  a  hastily  arranged  party,  I  carried  out  my  part  as 
mother  conscientiously,  putting  the  bride  to  bed,  where  I 
left  her,  quite  calm,  in  a  room  filled  with  flowers,  and  how 
glad  I  was  to  go  back  to  my  own,  and  throw  myself  into  my 
dear  husband's  arms!    Great  heavens!  what  a  difference, 


MEMOIRS  155 


and  how  I  blessed  the  fate  that  had  smoothed  the  straight 
path  where  I  walked  hand  in  hand  with  him. 

The  next  morning  I  was  scarcely  awake,  and  Joseph  was 
still  sleeping,  with  his  head  on  my  shoulder,  when  I  heard 
some  one  in  the  room,  and  there  was  Louise,  who  seated  her- 
self on  the  side  of  our  bed  and  talked  to  us  without  the 
slightest  embarrassment  about  her  husband  and  the  wed- 
ding-night ! 

A  little  later  came  a  message  from  M.  du  Hallay,  asking 
us  to  send  for  the  doctor,  as  he  felt  ill,  was  afraid  he  was  going 
to  have  brain  fever,  and  would  stay  in  bed. 

We  went  up  to  him  at  once,  but  his  face  looked  so  strange 
that  I  could  not  make  out  what  was  the  matter,  or  what  had 
caused  the  excitement  under  which  he  was  laboring.  I  was 
not  to  know  till  later  what  had  passed  that  night,  what  dis- 
closures had  crept  into  the  marriage-bed,  and  what  a  per- 
spective Louise  had  opened  before  him. 

The  married  pair  apparently  got  on  as  well  as  a  great  many 
others,  and  at  least  my  father-in-law  was  glad  to  be  rid  of 
his  daughter,  and  Joseph  felt  relieved  that  poor  Louise  no 
longer  bore  his  name.  As  for  me,  I  was  happy  enough, 
though  rather  weak  and  ailing,  and  in  spite  of  the  fine  weather 
and  the  healthy  country  life  I  was  still  very  thin;  the  fact  is, 
1  was  paying  for  past  imprudence. 

Mile.  Thierry  was  married  in  her  turn,  and  though  not  so 
richly  dressed,  her  simple  ornaments  were  more  becoming  to 
her;  the  white  veil  seemed  made  for  the  virginal  head.  Such 
a  contrast !  We  gave  a  little  party  later  in  honor  of  this 
marriage. 


156  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

I  do  not  know  exactly  why,  but  less  than  a  fortnight  after 
her  marriage  Louise  began  to  put  on  all  the  airs,  I  might  say 
affectations,  of  a  woman  who  is  going  to  have  a  baby,  includ- 
ing, apparently,  nausea  and  sickness  in  the  morning.  What 
idea  was  at  the  bottom  of  such  precautions  ?  I  do  not  know 
and  I  will  not  attempt  to  guess. 

This  ill-matched  couple  soon  left  us,  but  we  saw  them  again 
when  we  went  to  Paris  in  the  autumn,  and  they  seemed  to 
get  on  together,  or  made  believe  to  do  so.  They  had  a  small 
house  in  the  Rue  du  Helder,  and  there  I  saw  for  the  first 
time  Louise's  stepchild,  little  Annette  du  Hallay,*  She  was 
large  for  her  age,  and  very  attractive  and  pretty,  with  a 
rather  dark  skin;  I  was  sorry  for  the  poor  orphan,  and  she 
was  as  caressing  as  a  kitten  to  me.  I  could  not  foresee  that 
her  little  claws  would  one  day  tear  my  very  heart. 

Our  winter  passed  happily  at  Menars,  where  I  had  a  little 
girl  under  my  care,  a  daughter  of  the  Comtesse  de  Moore; 
there  was  a  brother  at  school  in  our  Prytaneum.  Their 
mother  had  married  again,  and  being  obliged  to  go  to  Porto 
Rico,  was  much  distressed  at  leaving  her  daughter  in  a 
poor  boarding-school  at  Blois,  so  I  offered  to  take  charge  of 
her.  Though  she  was  dirty  and  lazy,  a  perfect  little  savage, 
I  undertook  to  civilize  and  teach  her. 

Any  one  who  saw  the  child  when  she  first  came  to  us  would 
have  taken  her  for  a  beggar;  she  was  really  a  pitiable  sight. 
It  was  hard  to  believe  the  state  to  which  she  had  been  reduced 
*She  afterward  married  Comte  Fleury  de  Brigode. 


MEMOIRS  157 


by  that  wretched  place  where  she  lived,  and  her  poor  mother 
kissed  my  hands  with  gratitude  when  I  said  I  would  bring 
her  to  our  house.  The  change  in  Adeline  was  something 
miraculous;  at  the  end  of  three  months  no  one  would  have 
recognized  in  the  pretty  ten-year-old  child,  fat,  clean,  and 
well  dressed,  the  little  pauper  that  I  had  brought  back  from 
Blois.  She  was  a  nice  companion  for  Henry,  and  he  liked 
her  from  the  first ;  there  was  a  great  difference  of  age  between 
them,  but  the  little  Creole  was  no  more  advanced  than  he; 
she  was  gentle,  kind,  and  sensible  enough,  but  ignorant  and 
excessively  lazy.  M.  Laurent  taught  both  the  children,  and 
how  often  he  lost  his  temper  with  her !  I  have  found  a  jour- 
nal, something  like  the  one  written  by  Lydie  de  Gersin's 
mother  in  Berquin,  and  looked  over  the  eighteen  volumes  in 
which  my  Henry  had  learned  to  read.  I  also  gave  him  writ- 
ing lessons,  but  his  right  hand  was  very  weak,  and  it  needed 
the  patience  of  a  mother  to  teach  him  to  move  it  freely. 
How  I  did  work  over  that  dear  child !  Every  hour  of  my  life 
was  marked  by  my  care  and  love  for  him. 

My  brother-in-law  de  Brigode  used  to  say: 

"  Henry,  you  owe  your  life  to  your  mother,  ten  times  over." 
But  if  I  only  could  have  made  his  last  as  long  as  mine ! 

My  little  girl  was  a  great  occupation  to  me  by  now,  and 
since  her  nurse  Minin  had  gone  home,  and  Bdnne  took  care 
of  her  and  Henry,  they  both  slept  in  my  room;  their  little 
beds  are  at  Menars,  where  I  saw  them  not  long  ago,  but  where 
are  those  who  first  slept  there? 

To  think  that  I  still  live !  that  I  am  here  in  spite  of  all  I 


158  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

have  had  to  crush  me !  If  God  saw  fit  to  give  me  my  two 
first-born  children,  and  let  me  bring  them  up,  beloved  and 
regretted  as  they  are,  why  did  he  not  take  me  in  their 
place?  Why  does  he  leave  me  in  my  sorrow  alone  in  the 
world  they  have  left?  But  1  must  be  silent  and  adore  the 
hand  that  smites  me.  Do  not  four  dear  creatures  remain  for 
me  to  bless  and  love? 

My  father  was  a  sort  of  Cerberus  at  Paris,  so  we  did  not 
go  there  very  often,  but  we  did  get  the  social  and  political 
news,  and  the  liberty  of  the  press  enabled  us  to  appreciate 
the  position  of  King  Louis-Philippe.  Pamphlets,  insults,  and 
caricatures  fell  like  hail  on  the  so-called  popular  crown.  Epi- 
thets such  as  "chicken"  and  "puppet"  were  bestowed  on  the 
young  and  charming  Due  d'Orleans,  and  Lord  knows  what 
fun  was  made  of  the  pretended  lack  of  dowry  for  Louise- 
Marie — a  most  attractive  princess,  betrothed  to  the  Prince 
of  Saxe-Cobourg,  since  King  of  the  Belgians.  There  was 
every  kind  of  criticism  of  the  marriage,  and  unheard-of  sto- 
ries were  told  about  it. 

We  had  now  arrived  at  New  Year's  Day,  1836,  and  ac- 
cording to  our  habit,  to  bring  us  good  luck  as  we  said,  we 
put  on  rose-color  during  the  first  hours  of  the  New  Year. 
At  midnight  we  all  exchanged  kisses,  and  children  over  seven 
were  allowed  to  sit  up  for  this  ceremony.  Henry  was  the 
only  one  old  enough,  and  we  went  and  kissed  my  little  girl 
in  her  cradle;  she  was  three  years  and  a  half  then. 

All  the  good  wishes  1  received  at  the  beginning  of  this  year 


MEMOIRS  159 


were  realized;  I  remember  it  with  a  grateful  heart,  but  though 
a  tear  may  fall  as  I  think  of  my  first-born,  that  does  not  dim 
the  happiness  which  I  associate  with  the  year  that  gave  me 
a  second  Joseph. 

Signs  with  which  I  was  only  too  familiar  announced  that  I 
was  once  more  to  be  a  mother,  and  it  was  for  me  to  guard 
against  the  accidents  that  had  ruined  my  hopes  before;  I 
could  not  take  enough  care  of  a  life  now  become  so  precious, 
for  in  my  secret  heart  I  knew  what  a  worthy,  charming  son 
God  was  about  to  give  me. 

1  did  not  mind  any  sacrifice  necessary  for  the  preservation 
of  this  new  pledge  of  our  love  and  happiness,  and  would  lie 
on  my  couch  or  in  bed,  too  weak  for  exertion,  but  supremely 
happy ! 

My  poor  friend  and  aunt,  Ism6nie,  had  been  with  us  now 
for  some  time.  She  had  taken  a  violent  dislike  to  Paris,  on 
account  of  a  great  but  unreasonable  sorrow,  and  was  so  sad 
and  overexcited  that  I  thought  the  change  would  be  good  for 
her.  She  had  a  room  up  in  the  top  of  the  house,  where  she 
lived  and  ate  by  herself — really  a  prey  to  melancholia.  Nev- 
ertheless, she  began  to  work  and  read  a  little,  so  that  Amable 
and  I  had  hopes  of  finally  rousing  her  from  this  painful  situ- 
ation. She  was  interested  in  my  condition,  for  she  was  fond 
of  me,  and  the  memories  of  our  young  days  together  had 
never  been  effaced.  They  have  lasted  till  our  riper  years, 
and  were  a  sharper  grief  when  1  came  to  lose  her  also. 

A  young  physician,  the  pupil  of  Doctor  Desfray,  had  been 
married  the  year  before,  and  he  and  his  wife  were  established 


160  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

at  the  village  of  Menars.  I  was  drawn  to  her  by  her  good 
manners  and  appearance,  as  well  as  by  my  liking  for  her 
husband,  and  at  this  time  she  too  was  in  the  family  way. 

I  would  sometimes  go  to  see  her  in  the  little  cottage  where 
they  lived  while  their  house  was  being  built;  everything 
looked  clean  and  in  good  order.  She  was  the  kind  of  woman 
of  whom  the  saying  goes  that  a  handy  young  housekeeper 
carries  good  investments  in  her  apron  pockets. 

I  have  forgotten  many  episodes  of  those  times,  which  al- 
ready seem  so  far  away,  but  these  are  fragmentary  recollec- 
tions, and  later  sorrows  have  clouded  my  life  and  my  memory. 

I  remember  with  pain  the  death  of  the  poor  boy,  a  com- 
panion of  Henry's  and  about  his  age.  This  boy,  who  at 
seven  years  old  made  me  envious  of  his  health,  strength,  and 
handsome  face,  fell  wretchedly  ill;  he  could  no  longer  play 
and  could  only  look  on  at  the  sports  of  his  companion.  He 
developed  fever,  and  both  doctors,  Desfray  and  Blanchet, 
devoted  themselves  to  him.  I,  myself,  went  to  him  and  saw 
that  he  had  every  care,  as  if  he  had  been  my  own  son.  But, 
alas,  science  is  helpless  before  the  decrees  of  fate !  The  poor 
child  whom  I  loved  and  whom  I  had  once  thought  so  strong 
that  I  would  gladly  have  seen  him  change  with  Henry,  was 
carried  off  by  a  brain  fever — nothing  could  save  him.  He 
died,  and  I  can  never  think  of  him  without  the  deepest  pain. 

The  winter  before  my  pregnancy  in  1836,  I  was  present 
at  the  marriage  of  our  dear  doctor's  daughter;  she  became 
Mme.  Lemarlier,  and  had  a  little  girl,  who  fell  very  ill,  just  a 
few  days  before  my  confinement.    At  this  time  also  Com- 


MADAME  DE  PELLAPRA  IN  1856 


MEMOIRS  161 


tesse  de  Moore  returned  from  America  and  came  for  her 
daughter.  The  child  was  so  completely  transformed  that 
neither  her  stepfather  nor  her  older  brother  recognized  her; 
they  showered  compliments  and  thanks  on  me,  and  then  took 
Adeline  away,  to  poor  Henry's  despair,  and  we  had  the  great- 
est difficulty  in  consoling  him. 

My  mother,  however,  hit  upon  a  great  idea,  in  presenting 
him  with  a  well-trained  donkey,  which  he  could  ride,  with 
good  Prosper  leading  him  by  the  bridle.  When  Henry  saw 
his  former  playmate  some  years  later,  he  said  to  her  truly: 
"Ah,  Adeline,  I  cried  my  eyes  out  when  you  went  away; 
nothing  could  console  me  till  they  gave  me  a  donkey  in  your 
place." 

After  five  or  six  months  1  had  no  further  trouble,  and  could 
get  up  and  go  about  as  I  liked;  my  appetite  and  my  good 
looks  came  back  together,  and  I  entered  on  a  new  phase  of 
youth  and  beauty.  I  grew  stouter,  also;  even  in  my  best 
days  I  had  never  looked  more  brilliant,  and  my  happiness 
was  written  on  my  face. 

One  evening,  when  mother  had  gone  to  her  room  a  little 
earlier  than  usual,  we  had  hardly  gone  to  bed  when  she  came 
back  in  her  nightgown,  with  bare  feet,  pale  and  frightened, 
declaring  that  she  had  seen  a  burglar  in  her  room,  who  had 
climbed  in  by  the  open  window,  and  that  as  soon  as  she  had 
caught  sight  of  him  she  had  run  away. 

Joseph  jumped  up,  and  we  called  Philippe,  his  valet,  who 
only  stopping  to  throw  his  wife's  petticoat  around  him,  came 
hurrying  down  in  pursuit  of  the  thief.     My  husband  put  on 


162  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

his  dressing-gown  and  shouldered  his  gun  in  true  military 
style;  all  the  men  about  the  house  were  called  to  arms,  and 
each  one  appeared  just  as  he  was.  This  motley  band  formed 
in  line  and  marched  toward  my  mother's  apartment,  I  fol- 
lowing at  a  discreet  distance,  and  though  I  was  not  much 
frightened,  I  had  prudently  provided  myself  with  a  sword, 
which  was  really  a  joke,  considering  how  few  martial  deeds 
were  performed.  No  robber  was  discovered,  but  the  broken 
branches  of  the  climbing  rose  under  the  window  showed  that 
some  one  had  been  there,  and  the  next  morning  footprints 
were  found  on  the  gravel  walk. 

We  chaffed  mama,  telling  her  that  it  must  have  been  a 
lover  trying  to  get  into  her  window;  but  a  little  while  after, 
repeated  thefts  drew  attention  to  a  man  at  Menars  who,  hav- 
ing bought  a  horse  of  my  mother  a  few  days  before,  had  seen 
her  put  the  money  in  her  desk,  and  thought  perhaps  he  might 
get  it  back  at  the  expense  of  a  little  exertion.  We  often 
laughed  at  her  invariable  luck  in  a  lottery;  this  horse  had 
been  won  by  her  with  a  single  number,  and  we  had  therefore 
given  him  the  name  of  "Six  Francs,"  which  was  what  the 
ticket  cost. 

Things  that  seem  very  amusing  when  one  is  happy  are  dull 
enough  to  look  back  upon  in  times  of  sadness  and  discourage- 
ment. 

Good  old  General  Zewort  was  head  of  the  Prytaneum  at 
that  time  and  everything  went  under  military  discipline;  our 
fortune  went,  too,  but  though  I  knew  the  frightful  holes  that 


MEMOIRS  163 


these  schools  had  made  in  our  purse,  I  was  so  happy  then 
that  I  have  neither  regret  nor  ill  feeling,  and  should  be  only 
too  glad  to  go  back  to  those  blessed  days  that  I  can  never 
forget. 

The  dear  general  was  the  best  of  men;  he  loved  us  and  our 
children,  enjoyed  our  society,  was  interested  in  all  we  did, 
and,  like  us,  wished  that  1  might  have  a  son, — the  only  thing 
lacking  to  our  happiness. 

Mme.  Blanchet  was  confined  some  time  before  1  was;  her 
little  Bertha  was  like  a  pretty  doll,  and  she  would  carry  her 
about  while  I  enjoyed  the  air  on  my  beautiful  terrace,  but 
without  being  able  to  walk  so  far  as  the  end.  1  was  afraid 
that  my  excellent  doctor  might  not  be  able  to  attend  me,  for 
his  granddaughter  was  very  ill  just  then,  and  1  was  by  this 
time  so  enormous  that  I  thought  it  would  not  be  easy  to  rid 
myself  of  the  dear  being  1  felt  within  me.  ...  I  linger  with 
pleasure  on  the  thought  of  those  days,  like  the  traveller  who 
on  a  long  and  difficult  road  finds  an  oasis  where  he  may 
rest. 

How  sweet  it  is  to  look  back  to  that  time !  My  God,  how 
blessed  I  was !  I  have  indeed  known  more  brilliant  moments 
— satisfactions  of  vanity,  delights  of  love,  maternal  joys — 
but  nothing  to  compare  with  those  days  when  young,  beauti- 
ful, beloved,  1  was  about  to  complete  this  perfect  life  by  giv- 
ing birth  to  my  darling  second  Joseph ! 

The  time  came  at  last !  It  was  a  beautiful  autumn.  I 
have  never  known  more  perfect  weather  at  Menars — 1  might 
say,  in  our  paradise — and  I  had  been  waiting  for  some  time. 


164  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

Doctor  Desfray,  who  was  now  at  ease  about  his  grandchild, 
slept  in  the  house,  and  came  every  morning  to  see  how 
I  did. 

"Not  for  a  little  while,  just  a  day  or  two  more,"  I  would 
say.  I  had  grown  accustomed  to  my  elephantine  condition, 
when  on  the  evening  of  October  8th,  1836,  1  felt  the  uneasi- 
ness and  preliminary  pains  of  my  confinement. 

There  was  no  doubt  about  it,  and  after  some  hours,  late 
in  the  evening,  I  myself  opened  the  door  of  the  doctor's 
room  and  called  to  him:  "Get  your  sleep  over  as  quickly  as 
you  can;  it  is  not  going  to  last  long  \" 

I  had  to  wake  my  mother  up,  all  upset  at  what  was  before 
her,  and  she  lost  her  head  so  completely  that  she  carried  lit- 
tle Henry  out  of  my  room  upside  down  !  It  makes  me  laugh 
now  when  I  think  of  the  poor  child's  face,  half-asleep  as  he 
was,  when  he  was  changed  from  one  bed  to  another  in  this 
singular  manner. 

At  last  the  moment  came  when  in  the  midst  of  indescrib- 
able agony  I  was  delivered  of  my  child;  I  felt  relief  from  tor- 
ture, but  heard  nothing.  "Why  doesn't  he  cry?"  1  asked, 
and  the  doctor,  who  was  busily  working  over  the  enormous 
baby,  did  not  answer,  except  by  muttering  quietly  to  him- 
self: "That's  all  right;  just  what  he  wants!" 

Immediately  after  I  heard  that  first  cry,  always  so  pro- 
foundly moving,  which  filled  all  our  hearts  with  joy.  I  fell 
back  on  my  pillows.  .  .  .  The  child  was  alive;  that  was  all 
I  asked,  no  matter  what  it  was. 

"  It's  a  boy !"  cried  my  mother,  throwing  her  arms  round 


MEMOIRS  165 


Joseph.  They  all  came  around  me,  but  my  strength  was  ex- 
hausted. 

"  I  have  suffered  too  much,"  I  gasped.  "  I  haven't  energy 
enough  left  to  be  glad." 

However,  the  rest  of  them  rejoiced  for  me.  The  beautiful 
morning  of  this  9th  day  of  October  had  scarcely  dawned 
when  firecrackers  and  torpedoes  began  to  be  heard,  every 
one  celebrating  the  joyful  event  in  his  own  particular  way, 
and  in  the  evening  the  whole  village  was  illuminated.  The 
little  Jo,  who  was  so  wrapped  up  in  woolly  coverings  that  we 
called  him  "the  lamb,"  was  asleep  in  his  cradle,  and  so  fat 
and  pretty ! — the  only  new-born  child  I  ever  saw  who  de- 
served to  be  called  so.  Fresh,  plump,  and  rosy,  he  lay  there, 
fairly  shining  with  prosperity  ...  so  that  Ismenie,  who 
came  down  to  look  at  him,  with  a  rose  in  her  hand,  could  not 
get  over  it.  Henry  had  heard  of  the  great  event  as  soon  as 
he  woke  up,  and  he  roused  his  sister  at  once  to  tell  her  the 
news.  She,  being  rather  cross,  because  she  had  not  quite 
had  her  sleep  out,  said  she  did  not  believe  him,  that  there 
was  no  little  brother,  and  called  him  a  liar !  Whereupon  dis- 
putes and  confusion  ensued  at  the  sight  of  the  baby  in  the 
cradle. 

One  nocturnal  episode  was  very  amusing.  Our  good  old 
general  slept  in  No.  4  at  the  chateau,  and  near  by  his  ser- 
vant, an  ex-soldier  from  the  African  army,  named  Bagaut, 
who  entered  our  service  later.  My  mother  had  promised 
that  whenever  1  was  confined,  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or 
night,  she  would  let  the  general  know;  so  about  five  in  the 


166  A  DAUGHTER  OF  NAPOLEON 

morning,  true  to  her  word,  she  knocked  at  his  door  and  called 
out:  "General,  it's  a  boy  !"  "Splendid  !"  cried  the  general. 
"Thank  you  so  much;  I  will  get  up  right  away;  never  was  so 
glad  of  anything  in  my  life  !"  Bagaut,  who  was  not  far  olT, 
woke  up  with  a  start,  and  catching  the  general's  words  im- 
perfectly, thought  the  house  was  on  fire,  and  rushed  down 
to  the  courtyard  in  his  nightshirt  to  help  put  it  out ! — where 
he  was  laughed  at  and  made  to  fire  salutes  in  honor  of  the 
joyful  event. 

How  happy  we  all  were  together !  My  beloved  husband, 
glad  of  this  longed-for  son;  mama,  who  was  perfectly  en- 
chanted; Henry,  nine  years  old  now,  and  able  to  enter  into 
our  joy;  and  darling  Emilie,  who  was  called  Minette,  because 
of  her  little  snub  nose,  that  made  her  look  like  a  kitten.  I 
can  see  her  face  plainly  before  me  now,  and  Henry,  too,  in 
his  English  suit,  holding  his  sister's  hand.  She  was  very 
tall  for  her  age  of  four  years  and  a  half,  her  brown  curls  fell 
over  her  shoulders,  and  she  wore  a  little  pale-green  merino 
dress,  and  a  black-silk  apron  trimmed  with  lace.  .  .  .  Heav- 
ens !  how  many  are  gone:  Ismenie,  both  the  doctors,  Blan- 
chet  and  Desfray,  my  two  dear  children !  Then,  also,  the 
old  general,  who  loved  us  so — ^Joseph  was  named  after  him 
— and  my  father  and  father-in-law — none,  none  are  left ! 

Happy,  indeed,  are  those  who  die  first,  and  do  not  know 
what  bitterness  it  is  to  survive  one's  children ! 


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